


Going Out With A Bang

by pandaspots



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, F/M, Food Puns, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Part chatfic, Porn with some plot, an excuse to project and write smut? it's more likely than u think, slight sansa bashing dldr, tagging only the necessary characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandaspots/pseuds/pandaspots
Summary: Aemon's siblings think he's too uptight, and have an idea of what might loosen him up a bit. It's all downhill from there.
Relationships: Aegon VI Targaryen/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow/Aegon VI Targaryen, Jon Snow/Aegon VI Targaryen/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia), Jon Snow/Rhaenys Targaryen (Daughter of Elia)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 50





	1. The North

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo yea here it is: THE CONTEXT OF KINKTOBER DAY ONE  
> one day i woke up and thought: u kno what would be fun? projecting my genderfluidness onto a favorite character. this is the result of it.  
> I also bought a tablet and relearned how to draw on the pc in between starting this fic and posting it now, so enjoy the little sketches i made for this fic too!! also take heed of the GODDAMN RATING. pls. im begging.

It was his older brother’s idea. They were texting back and forth things that Aemon would likely regret in the morning, half-drunk on strong ale he smuggled into his room, and Aegon drunk on whatever unholy wine concoction he and Rhaenys had came up with (“I’ll have to show you later, it’s divine, little brother”), when the idea came to be.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ur too stuck up bro u need to like. Lighten up

**[M &Aems]**  
And how do you suggest I do that?  
I can see you typing, I am not doing the eight.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Bro u need way more than eight. U need like. Three of each gender known to mankind, at the very least.

**[M &Aems]**  
That is a mighty number of people. It cannot take _that_ many to make me unwind, surely.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Im sure the traditional 16 for ppl of our more flexible inclinations would do u just fine, aems.  
But take it as more of like. A guideline. A minimum.

**[M &Aems]**  
And just where the hell do you suggest I even start? I’m stuck in the north, remember?

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ur cousin is p cute

**[M &Aems]**  
If I ask you which one, you’re going to answer ‘the older one’ and nothing else, won’t you.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Y u read my mind! But i was gonna suggest the one named for ur mom’s dumped ex-fiance  
Id bend the knee to _that_

**[M &Aems]**  
I am not fucking either Robb or Sansa, that’s. Not gonna happen. No matter how pretty.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ugh fine _dont_ take two for the team  
Theres that giant boy whats his name again

**[M &Aems]** **  
**Jon Umber? The Smalljon?

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Y him. Fuck that

**[M &Aems]**  
@Rhaevioli collect your brother, he's trying to get me dead by Umber dick.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Shes asleep u cant have me silenced with sister tits when i merely spoke thine truth  
U want death by giant boi dick dont deny it

**[M &Aems]**  
Smalljon is handsome but.  
He is NOT into men.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Good thing u rnt a man right

**[M &Aems]**  
 _Egg_. I'm probably still ranging well within male to him

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
I know for a fact u packed Aemma things w u. Do it or no balls.

**[M &Aems]** **  
**I cant believe im crossdressing so you can live vicariously through me.

That was the end of it, but when Aemon woke up the following day, to his phone flashing at a picture from Rhae, showing her suffocating their brother in her breasts as payback for bullying their younger sibling, and a message encouraging him to get it, he decided maybe he'd just do it for the hell of it.

Which was why she was now decked up in her sluttiest volantene fashion and lacy underwear, tucked, shaved and powdered sitting at a bar in Last Hearth, fielding inquiring messages from her uncle, looking precisely for Smalljon Umber to make an appearance like his instagram story suggested. Aemma's patience was wearing thin, though, especially because all the bravado was leaking out of her in waves of anxiety at being seen by more people than just her family; it was nerve wracking, in a way that being Aemon wasn't, as if people knew and judged her somewhat lacking.

Just as she told the nth suitor of the night to go fuck himself, the Smalljon came in, laughing boisterously with his friends, and Aemma cursed a blue streak when her eye caught Robb's. Of course her cousin was with her target. Robb, to his credit, reacted only minimally when he noticed her walking towards them, quickly punching out a text to Robb, recalibrating her plans.

**[M &Aems]**  
If anyone asks, I'm our uncle Brandon's bastard on a crownlands girl

**[Wolfboy]**  
Id ask but I really dont want to know.

"Hey, cousin," she said, in a pleasant, soft voice that she could hold for a very long time, thankfully. "Didn't think I'd see you here!"

"Oh? Who's this? Thought your cousin was more princely," Cley Cerwyn said, laughing.

"She's one of uncle Brandon's," Robb muttered, reddening to match Aemma's necklace. "And I have more than just the royal cousin, though Aemon is the better one. Guys, this is Aemma."

"Pretty name for a pretty lass," the Smalljon complimented her, eyeing her body from her beat face to her fake breasts to her cinched waist, down her legs, a look on his face like he approved greatly of her short black A-line dress with the lowest neckline possible that showed her lacy white bra but didn't give away the fact under the lace it was all silicon, embellished with a gold and ruby layered necklace she was pretty sure Aegon had crammed in her bag, not that she was complaining. It did wonders to assuage her anxiety. She was being seen dressed as she was (sometimes) and at least the one she wanted liked it.

"Mmm don't know about that," Robb muttered under his breath as Jon pulled a seat right beside him for Aemma. "She's kinda terrible."

She merely smirked at him, and then proceeded to ignore her cousin in favor of hailing a waiter to order them beer and chips, and she was pretty sure the reason the waiter even heard was because of her gold bracelets clanging against one another.

Her plan relied heavily in getting the Smalljon very drunk, after all.

It took more ale than she thought to get Jon drunk, but it was just fortunate that the drunker he got, the handsier he got. It didn't hurt that she was showing interest (who wouldn't really) and leaning into Smalljon's every touch. They were both well into their cups, when Jon, laughing, put a kiss on the corner of her mouth, and Robb got up, loudly exclaimed he had enough to drink, and excusing himself back to the hotel they were staying, motioning to Cley and Brandon Norrey, who were far too amused, likely thinking Aemma was trying to get him to marry her for his and her honors, to get a lord for a husband. _If they only knew I outrank them all_ , she thought, ruefully.

"It's getting late," she whispered in his ear. "I should get back too."

"I'll walk you, sweetheart," Jon said, a proprietary hand on her waist.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bother," she demurred, standing on her tiptoes to put her arms around Jon's neck and failing in what she hoped looked adorable frustration. The Smalljon had nothing _small_ about him, and she hoped there was no exception to the rule.

"It's no bother, love," he replied, and put a kiss on the top of her head like it was nothing and she was no taller than a toddler. "I'll be lord of these lands, gotta make sure the hospitality is acceptable."

It probably made sense to him, and there was no better lure that she could think of; the man had been surprisingly chivalrous about a girl all but sucking his cock in public. Curse northern honor.

He truly did _just_ walk her to her hotel, keeping a distance and being so damned _respectful_ . Aemma didn't believe she was yearning for the south, where people didn't need to be outright told with all the letters, but there was something refreshing about people assuming _no_ instead of _yes_.

When Smalljon made to leave once they reached the lobby, she held his hand.

"Won't you walk me to my room? Wouldn’t want anything happening to a poor, drunk girl in between here and her door, would you?" She tried, and failed, in keeping the shit-eating impish grin out of her face. Jon finally seemed to catch onto her.

"Hm, oh! Yes, yes, where are my manners, really," he said, blushing over his already reddened face. It was ridiculous that people between the Neck and the Red Mountains thought dark skin hid a lot; if anything, Jon was seeming more embarrassed because of it.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, she walked a little distance away.

"What are you--" he started, but then she ran to him, jumping onto his outstretched out of reflex arms, and wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling at his hair and kissing Jon with all the might she managed. His hands went straight to her ass, and she mewled into his mouth, erection straining at the light tuck (she really needed new gaffs, but the old ones were just so _comfortable_ ), biting on his lower lip.

"There's something I forgot to tell you," she started, shifting on his hold. When Jon hummed his assent, she continued, "I have a dick."

Jon paused in his enthusiasm.

"Does-- I have no idea-- You don't mean to fuck _me_ , right?" He blurted out, and Aemma laughed, relieved and amused. "Cause I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of thing."

"Mmm, don't worry, big boy. No new adventures today. Well," she added, playfully, as the elevator pinged at her floor, "not entirely, at least."

If Jon realized they were heading into the royal suite, he didn't show, letting her swipe her card and guide him through the apartment, into the bedroom she was using, and down into her bed while she pulled his pants down.

"Won't you get out of your clothes?" He asked, stripping out of his shirt.

"... some guys prefer that I keep my clothes on, so they can pretend better," she muttered, looking away.

"I'm not 'some guys', I'm Jon Umber. Just let me see you, Aemma."

She covered her eyes, smiling, perched where she was onto the Smalljon's lap.

"I'm gonna need help, then, _Jon Umber_ ," she purred, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him up. “You see, I pulled this up with a hanger, I can’t pull it off by myself…”

The other took enthusiastically to the task, nearly busting the zipper with the strength he pulled it down, but Aemma couldn't complain. She stood up, looming over Jon, and let the dress fall, quickly unhooking the waist cincher and kicking the dress to a side.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Jon gasped out, pulling gently on Aemma's arm until she kneeled over his waist, cock hard and standing on attention and bigger than anything Aemma's taken on before.

“Oh, seven above, you’re going to split me up in half,” she blurted out, biting her lip and pushing back her ass onto Jon’s cock. Jon looked at her, adorably concerned.

“That’s not a dealbreaker, is it?”

“Mmm, no, I’ve never had someone so big inside before, though.” She leaned in, sadly parting her ass and the Smalljon’s delectable cock, to whisper in his ear, “I kinda want you to break me, now.”

“Do you need-- uh. Do you need time to prepare, or--”

“Do you want to watch?”

That seemed to break Jon a little, tearing out a whimper from him, his hands (so, so big) grasping at her hair and pulling, and Aemma cursed deciding to forego a wig. She made a pained noise from the back of her throat, and Jon seemed to realize what he was doing, easing his grasp a little. She leaned to one side, with Jon following, unwilling to let go, and blindingly felt around for her suitcase, where she kept the bare necessities, such as skincare and lubricant.

Aemma pulled out the bottle of lube, messily putting some on her fingers as Jon took off her panties, then confusedly pulling off the gaff, which, she thanked all the gods she could think of, was the only thing in the way of tucking she had the foresight to do. She slathered the lube onto Jon’s cock, and cleaned the rest around her ass, too impatient to get on with it to properly take at least one minute to relax and stretch.

“Oh, Mother have mercy,” she bit out, when the head was in, almost but not completely regretting her decision.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked, visibly straining with restraining himself.

"I'm an idiot," she laughed it off. "Let… let me catch my breath, get used to you… It'll be so good, but gods, I'll be lucky to walk at all tomorrow." That brought a chuckle to Jon's mouth.

"I've heard that before, and they all walked just fine."

"Take it as a challenge, then, big boy," she said, smirking, before sinking all the way it'd go on Jon's cock.

It hurt. He was balls deep in her, she could feel the press of the head against her belly, and the stretch was uncomfortable against her ass. For a couple of minutes, it was all she could do, to stay sitting on Jon, biting her lip, eyes closed, focusing on the feel of Jon's hands unhooking her bra and feeling slightly naughty, being mostly naked but for the jewelry she wore.

"Wanna fuck me with my rubies on?" She teased.

"You look like a fucking princess. Or what I imagine a princess would look in bed, I wouldn't know," he breathed out, and it was on the tip of Aemma's tongue to tell him the truth, but she didn’t; it was a possibility he’d stop, and she’d strangle him with her bare hands if he did. "All the gold look fucking delicious on you."

"You should've told me you liked a girl in jewels, I'd have put on all of them for you."

Jon cursed, bucking his hips up, and Aemma moaned with it; it still hurt a little, but just a dull stretching ache rather than a splitting one.

"Do it again," she begged, closing her eyes, focusing more on adjusting the angle, leaning back on weak arms (why were her arms shaking already she didn't know).

The Smalljon’s big brown eyes were darker still with desire, his arms gripping her hips so tight she was sure there were bruises already, moving his hips slowly, tenderly, and she thought she might cry if he kept it up. Her cock, which had flagged with the pain, was up again now, and as she made a move to touch it, Jon simply batted her hand away, and then hesitated.

“Let-- let me try, my lady,” he said, the honorific sounding so _foreign_ to her eyes it made her smile, tilting her head to one side and moaning loudly when Jon’s hand practically covered the entirety of her cock with little effort.

She bucked sharply into his hand in surprise, letting out a small, startled “oh”, then grinding down hard, the stretch of it almost pleasant, and she thought it amusing the shade of red Jon was turning in his effort not to do… anything, really. She had no idea what he was holding back, but now, she was curious.

“Hmm, why are you holding back, Jon?” She ground onto his cock again, and found it was finally getting better. “I told you, I _want_ you to break me.”

‘Famous last words’, was Aemma’s last full thought when the atmosphere between them shifted ever so slightly. Jon heaved out a breath, and nodded, before throwing her off him into the bed like a ragdoll, like she weighed _nothing_ , his cock holding on by its very tip when he turned with her, kneeling between her legs and _pushing_ in, and if Aemma had any coherent thought left, she’d feel ashamed of the nearly inhuman keening she mewled out, as Jon fucked her right into the mattress.

**[M &Aems]**  
Fuck you two.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
What did _I_ do?

**[M &Aems]**  
You two encouraged me to fuck the Smalljon  
 _There’s nothing small about the Smalljon_

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ouch  
Ngl i thought it was like  
Northern bragging  
Like he doesn’t look like he packs a lot

**[M &Aems]**  
YEAH NO  
That’s the cold talking, dicks shrink in the cold  
Smalljon looked perfectly normal in size but that’s when we were freezing our asses off  
The hotel has A/C and warm-trapping stuff.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
1-10, how much can’t you walk

**[M &Aems]**  
Couldn’t get up in the morning to get Jon out of my room before Uncle Ned just waltzed into my suite like nbd while I was begging for more actually, Robb can’t look me in the eye, and Jon is asking questions I don’t want to answer in public, loudly and in public, I-can’t-walk.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Egg wants to know if u want him to kiss it better, paraphrase mine.

**[M &Aems]**  
I think I’d actually break if you used his actual phrasing, thank you Rhae for having pity on your sibling.  
Worth it though.  
My legs are jelly, my ass hurts, I have _bruises everywhere_ because ya boi Jon Umber is a damn wildling, we’re having to pay extra because Jon fucked me so hard into the bedding half my face was in the pillows and sheets and I didn’t have the good thinking of using anything waterproof, so it smudged EVERYWHERE, when Uncle Ned walked in I had spunk in my hair and there’s a dent on my new ruby necklace, but _worth it._

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
…  
Do u think if i asked nicely, this giant umber dude would fuck me this hard too  
Asking for a friend

**[Rhaevioli]**  
I’m the friend.

**[M &Aems]**  
His father is trying to chastise him as we speak, hold on, I don’t think the Greatjon has ever had to chastise the Smalljon ever, this is fucking entertaining.  
Greatjon: “If you’re going to fuck a royal at least be nice about it--”  
Uncle Ned: “Jon, NO.”

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Oh my gods.  
When rhaes queen, im finding some way to fucking… im gonna reward this man somehow. Fucking watch me.

**[M &Aems]**  
Oh they asked me what I thought about this, finally, I’m just messaging you two to be an asshole now, bc it took them FIFTEEN goddamn minutes to ask ME what _I_ thought about living a Chuck Tingle book.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Pounded In The Ass By My Uncle’s Vassal Lord’s Son But He Didn’t Know I Was A Prince So He Went All In But It’s Okay Because I Liked It.  
I’m fucking… sending this title to the man’s twitter On Main as a suggestion and causing a PR nightmare, fucking WATCH ME

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
As the future spouse to the both of you, i condone this message

**[M &Aems]**  
Uncle is Livid. The Greatjon won’t stop laughing.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
What _did_ you say?

**[M &Aems]**  
“If you keep arguing about things that don’t matter because the only one who knew that was me was Robb, people will hear and turn this into the PR nightmare you think it is, uncle, and then my siblings will take it as a challenge, which will probably end with my brother streaking naked through Flea Bottom leading a parade of others similarly dressed. No one’s too hurt, everyone’s happy, the end.”

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
I mean, “prince of summerhall shames family in a streaking parade” doesnt sound more scandalous than “prince aemon is a crossdressing slut”, all things considered, but “princess of dragonstone caught in brothel’s orgy night” might

**[M &Aems]**  
I was in a hurry, and it was a callback to when you actually did just that.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Hmmm. ill allow it.

Aemon had half his earthly possessions (the ones he brought north anyway) confiscated until further notice. It was to remain under the jurisdiction of the Warden of the North (or in Sansa’s rooms) until he managed to explain it in a satisfactory way to Uncle Brandon.

He was allowed to check on his things if their guard was in her room, though.

“Oh, my god, I thought this was limited edition? It’s nearly untouched!” Sansa was fiddling with a crystal-like eyeshadow palette’s casing.

“It is, but when _did_ I get to use it up north? The _once_ , and it got taken away almost immediately,” he groused.

“Through whose fault, anyway? You know better than to listen to your…” she paused, pursing her lips and looking so much like her mother like that, “ _fiancé_ . No due offense, but Prince Aegon has very singular, _very terrible_ ideas.”

“If you’re trying to make me regret the other night, cousin dearest, it won’t happen.” Aemon pushed off the bed and sat on the floor with Sansa, as she looked in doubt at an item she pulled from Aemon’s girl days bag. “That’s the thing I was looking for! For Rickon, that Aunt Catelyn asked me to bring and I just shoved in my bag and it got swallowed up.”

“Oh, the one for earwax? Oh, good, I thought it was something weird.”

“Sansa, I’m a crossdresser, not the owner of a sex dungeon,” he retorted, trying his best not to glare. Sometimes, he could really fool himself she was actually twelve instead of nineteen. “It’s the ear picker, yes.”

“How did you even hide all of these from your father?” She asked, poking carefully at what he thought might be underwear, but also might as well be actual clothing. “How did no one know, you’re a prince, and all these purchases might very well be noticeable.”

“Buying from small companies, and using Rhae’s card. You’d be surprised at how many small companies won’t tattle just to keep a rich person’s constant business.” He shuffled closer, and pushed his more risqué underwear down under some silk shirts.

“Yeah, but why? I mean, living a double life sounds exciting, but I don’t think the duplicity is ever worth it.”

“You’d also be surprised at how many secrets some courtiers might spill if they think no one of importance is around. Duplicity is kinda how things get done in King’s Landing, cousin,” Aemon replied, ignoring Sansa’s question in favor of a half-truth. He knew for a fact people now were more accepting, but to talk to the daughter of Catelyn Tully about how Valyrians view gender, and the thirty other cans of gender worms that existed in Westeros alone… There was not enough dragons in the world to make him talk about _that_ with a riverlander. He was not looking forward to ransoming his clothing as was, talking to a Northman.

“What’s it like, though?” Sansa asked, suddenly.

“Wearing dresses?” he shot back, confused. “You should know that already.”

“No, not that,” she said, waving him off in a way her mother would likely find very improper, and that was why Aemon allowed it. “The, uh… doing things part.”

“Didn’t your mother hire a septa to teach you that?” he asked, sarcastically, and Sansa slapped him on the arm. “Okay, okay… Uh… I don’t really know what you’re asking, here, I’d wager the… uhm… holes being used function very differently from each other.”

“I mean, both of that hurts, right?” Sansa was red as her hair, but still braved on. Aemon guessed he could respect her a bit more for that even if he felt like she should _know_ this by now.

“Uh, for wildly different things, yes. For you, for example, if it hurts, you would’ve been anywhere from nervous to not ready or unwilling. It _shouldn’t_ hurt for you. For me, it hurt both because things are not really supposed to go _in_ the ass, and because the Smalljon is not small in any way,” he smirked at the horrified face Sansa pulled.

“But-- he hurt you really bad, didn’t he?” she tried again, a little more nervousness showing in her voice as she eyed the glaring hickeys on his throat and the scab where he bit his lip until it bled. It was almost full blown concern, and it made his insides soften.

“I’m a prince, Sansa. Jon would’ve been dead if anything he did was anything I didn’t want. He’s still alive and breathing, so that should tell you a lot more about him and I than you probably wanted to know, doesn’t it?” he flashed her a smile, all teeth and mildly predatory, and Sansa, to her credit, only shook her head in disgust.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ok, aems, whats ur next target

**[M &Aems]**  
Likely uncle Brandon, the Starks have my Aemma clothes under ransom and if I can’t convince my uncle that they’re mine and not a clever plot to trick boys into fucking me so I can send them to jail later for fun, which we have never even thought of but now I’m wondering, they’ll be sent to King’s Landing and I’ll be without a literal half of me until my touring North ends.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Royal problems  
But truly, who’s next, I’m invested now  
(say me say me)

**[M &Aems]**  
I have no idea LOL, we’re waiting on Uncle Brandon, really, the Greatjon is still laughing himself silly, I think the Smalljon might’ve propositioned me???? (he said to call him if I ever get my clothes back????)  
Other than that, we have here my cousins (out of question), Uncle Ned (more than out of question), Cley Cerwyn (acting like I have rabies), Brandon Norrey (sure that I have rabies), and the Karstarks get here tomorrow. Oh, and Domeric Bolton, but Sansa’s been fancying herself in love with him since she was old enough to dream of marriage, even if she _knows_ , as heir, she cannot marry another heir whose only alternate is a madman.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Doesn’t ur uncle have little Ricky-Dicky?

**[M &Aems]**  
Try suggesting that Rickon become the heir to Sansa. She’s more likely to murder you in cold-blood in your sleep than let that happen.  
Maybe I should.  
Nah, Domeric’s eyes creep the everloving _shit_ out of me.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Mother asked what we were so focused on, i said u, and lya just sighed and told me to tell u u better not do anything drastic like try to seduce the bolton guy against ur better judgement  
theyre onto us  
U said karstarks tho? One of _them_ then

**[M &Aems]**  
Torrhen and Harrion are fucking… disgusting, though. I heard them saying once they didn’t wipe their asses because that was gay, to touch your asshole.  
Also, I think Robb will strangle me if I sleep with one more friend of his, I already fucked one too many apparently.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Isnt there a Karstark girl?

**[M &Aems]**  
Rhaenys Targaryen, first of your name, are you allowing my dick near another girl?

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Against my better judgement, for the sake of this experiment, I am allowing you to fuck girls as long as I know their names.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Mrow someones possessive  
Do I get to do that too?

**[Rhaevioli]**  
No, ur my kept cock  
…  
Egg choked, brb

**[M &Aems]**  
Gods, so did I, see you in the seven hells.

Alys Karstark had changed drastically from the awkward girl who was certain boys had cooties (but then, Aemon conceded, doesn't everyone). She also came a long way from the girl who used to kick him into the hot springs of Winterfell, his best childhood friend who used to sneak into his bedroom at night to hold sleepovers with their toys.

She had curves now, for instance, and her hair looked shiny from being healthy, not the unfortunate pre-teen grease she had been cursed with. That, and he was sure that she was on par with Rhaenys as far as girls who can kill him with words go. But he had self control. He could go one meal without embarrassing himself minimally. He’s already seen her naked, and there’s nothing there that’s news to him.

"So, I heard you lived the mom porn fantasy," Alys whispered casually to him, causing Aemon to choke on his carrot. Which shouldn't be sexy under normal circumstances, but his traitorous mind went immediately to another, infinitely more pleasant instance of choking on something very large, and not for the first time in his life Aemon wondered what was wrong with him.

“How-- You just got here, how did you hear about the Smalljon and I?” he whispered back, after he got his coughing under control.

“I-- I was talking about being prince consort to the queen, but-- Really? Jon Umber the Younger?” Alys turned her whole body to him, shifting her plate so she could still eat. “Holy shit, and you’re still alive? Wynafryd told me he nearly broke her in half!”

“I really really doubt Smalljon went as hard on Wynafryd Manderly as he went on me. I’m surprised I can still choke on anything,” he commented, lowly, looking around to see if they had any modicum of privacy in this breakfast table.

This time, _Alys_ choked on her tea, laughing.

“How did you even do that, I thought the Smalljon was straight?”

“Targaryen magic,” he replied, automatically, and by the way Alys rolled her eyes at him, he wasn’t having it. “It’s complicated. Suffice to say, I more than matched the Smalljon’s requirements that night.”

“And what were exactly those?”

Aemon looked into Alys’ eyes before even thinking of an answer.

“If I had to guess? Sparkly eyelids and short dresses.” He paused, thinking. “Oh, and begging him to manhandle me around like a ragdoll. I’m fairly sure that all he ever wanted in his life was have a girl look at his cock and take it as a challenge instead of a hurdle.”

“Hmm, that’s fair. But really, you fucked him? How are you able to sit, even? Wynna couldn’t, and we have the optimal apparatus for it.” Alys was way too invested in knowing, he noticed, but decided not to comment.

“I had to take pain medication for my throat and hips, it’s only fair to assume it’s been numbing that pain too,” he mused. “Though, it’s also been a day, and if you think I’m wrecked now, you should’ve seen me when Uncle Ned found us in the morning yesterday.”

“Oh, bleeding weirwoods. I’ll bite,” she said, burning with curiosity, “how did your uncle find you in the morning?”

He smiled, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, taking a sip of his cold milk before answering.

“Naked but for a necklace, a ton of arm bangles and anklets, unable to walk, with very visible strands of spunk in my hair, trying to goad the Smalljon into fucking me again so we could ‘finish the bottle’,” he recited, making air quotes.

Alys laughed loudly, and Aemon’s assigned bodyguard, Jaime, emerged from where he was trained to stay in the shadows just to ask if he should remove her.

**[M &Aems]**  
I can’t fuck Alys, she’s a friend.  
You know the movie, the one about the fish dad and son.  
Fish are friends, not food.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Holy shit, Aems, how drunk r u even

**[M &Aems]**  
4.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Aems, fuck the girl, you’re not eating her

**[M &Aems]**  
But her lgs  
*les  
*l  
E  
G  
B  
FCUK

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Oh sweetie, tell Jaime to go back to typing things for you  
That’s embarrassing

**[M &Aems]**  
I wnt too et her up thogh  
Fck spllng  
Jaime ws 2 embrrasd 2 typ put i wntd 2 b crused by alyss thigs  
Knda wanna like  
Let er do 2 me lik rhae woud  
Ud lke her rhae  
U 2 r both scare hot

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ah, the crux of the question  
Aems wants to fuck the karstark girl but hes too scared to ask her  
But hes also very turned on abt the idea  
But hes never going to ask bc shes scary hot

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Aemon Targaryen I swear to fuck, talk to the girl, ask to eat her out already  
The suspense is killing me

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Dont catch the next flight north dont leave me here rhae im beg and horn now

**[M &Aems]**   
_Img_0542.jpg_

__

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
A E M S  
He sent nudes  
SOS aems sent nudes

**[Rhaevioli]**  
GOOD, now send that to Alys Karstark ffs  
No sexting us until you ate that cunt

**[M &Aems]**  
Se things im to sore 2 fuck  
Im nt  
I cnt take a DIC surr, bUT. I can tak pussy wtf

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Im so tempted to show this to lya yall  
‘Hey lya wanna see a funny thing’ ‘yea sure’ ‘aems’s drunk’ and shed probs drive all the way to last hearth to yell at ur uncles and then at u

**[M &Aems]**  
NO DNT SHOW MOM  
Shed nevr let m livf  
Is ths a plot 2 get rhar all fr urselv, egfffnffajkdfsjfgjjfg fukc

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ah yes, thats exactly what im planning to eliminate the best cock of my life  
Ur so smart lil bro  
…  
Aems?

**[Rhaevioli]**  
I called him, he’s supposed to be getting any soon.

**[M &Aems]**  
Hello, are you Prince Aemon’s relatives? This is Alys Karstark, the prince is asleep in my bed, can you have someone retrieve him?

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
FUCK ABORT MISSION WE NEED A NEW GROUPCHAT

**[Rhaevioli]**  
I can’t bELIEVE  
I’m texting Jaime, hold on  
Nice to meet you, btw, we are indeed his sister and brother

**[M &Aems]**  
I can’t believe that the discord nicknames of the Crown Princess and Prince of Summerhall are food puns. No one’s gonna believe me, that’s pure sadism.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
@M&Aems

**[M &Aems]**  
WELL SHIT.  
You three all look like such dignified figures on screen, and it doesn’t matter that now I have proof that you three are actually huge dorks, no one will believe me, ever. I mean, I knew Prince Aemon was a dork, but I didn’t know it came from the Targaryen side.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Thank you.  
I texted Jaime, he should be in any minute now  
It was rly gr8 to meet u, Alys, pls let our brother eat u out he’s rly good

**[M &Aems]**  
Thank you?

Aemon woke up the next day in his room, with Jaime sleeping on a couch next to him, looking like absolute shit. He too looked like something had ran over him, and his mouth tasted exactly like what he imagined boiled faux leather should.

“Gods, what in the seven greasy hells happened yesterday night,” he grumbled, unhappily. “Jaime,” he whined at the man on the couch. “Jaaaaime.”

“Yes, your grace?” Jaime stretched out, after waking with a startle.

“Why did you let me drink that much, Jaime?” Aemon was positively sure the strip of sunlight coming in from the slightest opening in the curtains was out to kill him. “Also, please, for the love of everything you hold sacred, close the curtains.”

“I don’t ‘let’ you do anything, your grace, you called the bottles in, I didn’t think you’d try to make your siblings’ unholy concoctions away from the Red Keep. Lady Alys sends her regards, by the way,” Jaime said, not moving an inch from the couch, visibly taking too much pleasure in torturing his charge.

“Jaime, for fuck’s sake, get this blasted sunbeam out of my eyes, I’m miserable enough as is, without a head-splitting headache.” He buried his head into the pillows and heard the man huff, then snort, and within a few short moments, the ear-splitting tinny of a curtain being moved. He dreaded Jaime had opened it fully. “Did you close it?” he asked from the pillow.

“Yes, my prince.”

He peeked out to blissful penumbra and sighed, putting his cold hands on his forehead to ease the throbbing.

“The fuck did I do that I drank enough to be hungover, anyway,” he muttered, and intended it as a rhetorical question; it would come back to him once he could think without feeling every blood vessel in his brain moving his blood along their tiny pathways, but Jaime felt it his sacred duty to inform him anyway.

“You needed courage to go seduce the young Lady Karstark, your grace,” the man answered, not missing a beat. Aemon groaned. “Your siblings have messaged you, as well.”

“What.” He rushed to grab his phone from where it lain, charging (Jaime truly was his guardian angel), and nearly fell off the bed, dizzy. When he finally managed, the brightness of his screensaver nearly blinded him, until he opened the app (blissfully in night mode, like a normal person), and was only half blinded.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Gods I wanted to be there to shove a flashlight in his face right now, why won’t father see the need for this to happen every once in a while.

**[M &Aems]**  
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
Do not.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
He lives !!!!!!

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Are u ok

**[M &Aems]**  
Tell father there’ll be one less suit to make, I’m throwing myself off this penthouse suite as soon as I stop being so photosensitive.  
Or I might do it right now and pass out midfall so I don’t feel any pain when my body hits the concrete.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
That’s Awfully Morbid of you, lil bro

**[M &Aems]**  
Come kiss me to experience what boiled leather likely tastes like.  
You should outlaw your wine mixers, Rhae.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
That shouldnt sound as temptin as it does  
The things u do to plant a big one on aems mouth

**[Rhaevioli]**  
What a tragedy,,,, how will i ever kiss u again,,,, if only the Smith invented a thing called mouthwash,,,,,,

**[M &Aems]**  
I’d do anything to get this taste out, really. I’d even suck Egg off the second he got here, I know you haven’t washed your dick properly since I left and I’d do it if it meant I didn’t taste what I’m tasting in my mouth right now.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
R U D E  
Ill have u kno since u left i have washed my dick most religiously  
As in, i miss u lil bro  
So much

**[M &Aems]**  
He’s jerking off in the shower, isn’t he.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Nearly every day, it’s kind of impressive

He clicked off on his phone when he heard the noise of a door opening, likely with some hotel staff coming in. He hoped Jaime had the good sense of asking them for pain medication and some water.

Aemon’s hopes were dashed to the ground like pumice stone under a horse’s hooves when he saw his Uncle Brandon’s face staring at him, holding his Aemma bag and looking utterly unimpressed.

“The meaning of this?” His uncle said, simply, lifting the bag.

His eyes shifted to one side to another, his alcohol-addled brain trying to come out with an answer better than “it makes me happy.”

“It makes me happy,” was exactly what he said, and Aemon prayed to any god that was listening to please open the ground beneath him and swallow him whole.

“I believe you,” his uncle answered, nodding and putting the bag down by the foot of his bed. He stared at the man, dumbfounded. “What? Were you expecting some grand interrogation?”

“Uh, yes?” Aemon pulled the covers closer, bunching them on his lap. He nervously picked at the waves, trying to make them all the same size.

“That’s for your father to handle.” Uncle Brandon waved it off. “And it seems that he either doesn’t know or doesn’t mind, and either way, no one was harmed, no one is offended, and aside from a few bruises, you seem whole enough from here.” The man shrugged. “Though seriously, Aemon. You aren’t doing this to trick people?”

Aemon took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and failing.

“No, I…”

“If it’s something that genuinely makes you happy, then it’s settled. Just don’t paint your nails anything garish or dark, Sansa did that enough to me when she was little for me to know those colors take ages to come off,” he said, before turning on his heels and walking off, unconcerned.

“They’re press-ons,” he replied, dumbly, to the empty room.

**[M &Aems]**  
I told an empty room that I wear press-on nails when I crossdress, call the silent sisters, I am ready to have my ashes halved.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
I take it u talked to ur uncle lol

**[M &Aems]**  
He didn’t really ask questions, he just returned my things. I think this entire ordeal having put Uncle Ned at the edge of his wits, because yes, the Greatjon is still laughing about it, was about enough to tide Uncle Brandon for days, gods willing months and years.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
So, how’s it going to be, now? Seconds with big dicc boi, or are you going to finally have ur shit together and ask Lady Alys for dat pussy

**[M &Aems]**  
If I ever fuck the Smalljon again, I’ll have to do it after a day of proper training and after some heavy duty prep job, I ain’t EVER taking something that big with only lube as my friend, ever.  
That being said, probably Alys.  
She’s gotten way hotter than she was and I’m… confused.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
I mean it happens sometimes look @ u aems  
U used to be so gangly  
Now ur still gangly but u got some hot in u

**[M &Aems]**  
Oh fuck right off, Egg. I wasn’t the one covered in acne who had a hair trigger.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Fight fight fight fight fight  
Hm, he went straight up offline.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
_Does he kno i lov him_

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Im sure he do, egg.

**[M &Aems]**  
I have half a mind to go to the midday meal like this  
 _Img_894275.jpg_

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ur uncle’s gonna fly off the handle i love it

**[Rhaevioli]**  
It’s disturbing how fast u can put on makeup  
Do it, u look lovely

**[M &Aems]**  
 _Img_839450.jpg_  
Stick my leggy up real far.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Why are you drinking it’s 11AM

**[M &Aems]**  
Fool, I am still drunk from yesterday.  
Or you could say

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Aems no

**[M &Aems]**  
It’s just who I Aems :)

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
TRIPLE COMBO  
RHAE DOWN I REPEAT RHAE DOWN

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Bro u can’t go like that to eat, they’re gonna end u  
Like ask room service and tell ppl ur indisposed

**[M &Aems]**   
_Img_83457.jpg_

_  
_ Too late, I’m already on my way down.  
JK, I’m changing, you two would’ve been short a spouse if I actually did it, uncle Brandon would strangle me with his bare hands.  
“I gave these back to make you happy, not make your PR team miserable!”

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Uh  
Talkin abt miserable PR teams…………… 

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Rhaenys Targaryen, what did you do

**[M &Aems]**  
Oh sweet weirwood sap, Egg didn’t misspell a single thing, what happened?

**[Rhaevioli]**  
If anyone ever makes the connections, u 2 didn’t know abt my “””””RP””””” twitter

**[M &Aems]**  
SSSSSSSSSHE MISPOSTED HA!!!

“Jaime,” he called to his bodyguard, “someone fucked up on social media, and it wasn’t Egg for a change,” he informed him, gleefully.

Jaime smiled, looking up from his own phone.

“Will Their Graces make the Princess delete her joke account?”

“If they make her deactivate, someone else is going to have to pick up the slack.” Aemon shrugged. “I told her to use a bootleg app in a folder, but when do those two listen to me?”

Aemon ended up inviting Alys to his rooms on the down low.

"If word that a boy called me to his room like a cheap whore ever gets to my brothers' ears, I don't think it'll matter you're a prince," she said, so he suggested he sneak out, but she shot him down again. “You tried last time and got there so drunk you passed out, so let’s try it my way.”

Hence, he spent the better part of the hour after dinner changing clothing idly, because his useless siblings were offline in some grand ball back home, and he was stuck in the North, picking pins out of some of his more skin-covering dresses and smoothing out the pinpricks, annoyed at Sansa’s assumptions everytime a pinprick took more than a few finger passes to readjust. One of them, he straight up screamed into a pillow and put in a new custom order, because it was made of _very fine linen_ and one of the stabs went right through a thread, breaking it and making for a possible huge tear.

He was sitting in a pajama top and the pleated skirt of his school’s uniform sorting through his makeup and making annoyed noises when he found something missing, when Jaime informed him that Lady Alys was at his door. Aemon knew that no pleading for time to change would stop Jaime from just letting her in, so he merely sighed.

“Send her in, Jaime,” he said, and Lady Alys was leaning on the threshold two seconds later, which spoke to the lengths his bodyguard was willing to go just to annoy him.

“So this is what a prince does in his evenings,” she commented, smirking.

“This is what an _annoyed cousin_ does after finding out his cousin tried to pilfer his things,” he replied, barely looking up from sorting his single eyeshadows. He was missing one shimmery brown. “Sansa thought her father wouldn’t give me back my things, so she started sorting through and grabbing what she wanted; she even measured out alterations in some of the dresses.”

“I’m sorry, she did what?” Alys tilted her head to a side, narrowing her eyes in a confused expression.

“I believe she thought she was gonna get to keep my things. So far I’ve counted one single shadow and three brushes missing,” he sighed, then pointed at a free space on his bedside. “There’s absolutely no need for any kind of formality, Alys, just sit down, please.”

“I wasn’t waiting, it’s just,” she said, then paused, measuring her words. “I’ve only ever been with girls, so it’s weird.”

“I don’t know how different could it be, since I would just be eating you out. I believe I stated my mission pretty clearly yesterday.” He was blushing horribly when he finished the sentence.

“Uhh, no, you were slurring pretty badly,” Alys laughed, sitting on the other side of his bag, poking at its contents. “Your sister mentioned something about it, though.”

“She called me to give me a pep talk not even ten minutes before that, because I was mistyping badly and Jaime refused to type those things out for me.”

“Oh, so your assigned agent types out your messages for you when you’re drunk, how absolutely decadent,” Alys mocked, pulling out a black garterbelt that had a soft shimmery gauze overskirt. “Decadent as fuck.”

“A company offered these for Rhae’s bridal shower, and I stole it. She did like the stockings, though. A fucking shame, they were embroidered lace.” Aemon snatched the garter back, folding it lovingly and putting it on his growing pile of underthings. “I’m surprised Sansa didn’t pilfer _those_ , the matching stockings are Rhae’s favorite piece of free lingerie she’s ever gotten, and she’s made absolutely no secret of it.”

“Don’t remind me of the Flower Stockings Month,” Alys practically begged, “I was there when it happened, I follow your sister on instagram.”

“You and half the kingdom,” he muttered, darkly. “I had to restrain myself from punching so many classmates who felt necessary to tell me how lucky I am to be able to be between those legs whenever I want, like I own Rhae.”

“Aren’t you?” she asked, poking at a lipstick.

“Well, _yes_ , but Harrold Hardyng is an absolute fuckup of a manlet,” he replied, huffing indignantly and pursing his lips in disgust.

"Oh, that has to be the best description of someone I've ever heard." Alys was laughing, now, and he felt very accomplished.

"If you think that's funny, you really should hear Egg's description of Lady Cersei. No offense to you, Jaime, but your sister earned every nickname." He called at the door, and Jaime knocked on it once.

"I can't believe the future consorts to the throne are just petty assholes."

Aemon gave Alys a look, then nodded in agreement.

"If you'd grown up in King’s Landing you'd understand that pettiness keeps you alive there."

Alys hummed in response, and picked up his phone, navigating to his music streaming app, in search of some white noise while he found yet another of his more conservative dresses pinned to alter.

"Do you even listen to anything that makes a coherent playlist?" He heard Alys mutter before she settled to press shuffle. "Gods, I was gonna wait until you stopped sorting your things to jump you, but this bag is endless! Need any help doing this, so we can get to the fun part of the night faster?" She asked, not waiting for an answer, just pulling out an empty travel bag from the suitcase.

"Please," he begged, shuffling the piles so Alys could move closer. "Sansa made a fucking mess, and some of the shit she toppled over might leak all over, and I'm not eager to have my bodyguard photographed in the nearest laundromat washing woman's clothing. This is the one thing I have the media has not sunk its claws into and I intend to keep it that way."

"Well, I can. If there's need, I can just go wash your slutty clothes for you. At a price, of course," she adds, mischievously, pulling one of Aemon’s sluttiest lacy lysene gstrings that were actually designed to fit cocks.

"I'm already going to eat you out," he pointed out, and heard the door close.

"Relating to that," she replied, cryptically.

Thankfully, by the time they got to the bottom of the suitcase, nothing had leaked, but he did find there were less bras and jewelry than he brought.

"I'm going to kill Sansa," he whispered.

"Oh?"

"She stole my first engagement ring."

Alys' face curled up in disapproval.

"What? Isn't that your most well known piece of jewelry? Why would she snag that?"

"I took it off because I didn't want it to get covered in semen, then I didn’t manage to find it in my bag and went looking for it in this bag, but got sidetracked." He was seething, and would need to have strong words with his cousin later.

"Gods, that's shitty."

"Not to mention I'm only her cousin when it suits her, because technically, Queen Elia isn't my mother despite having raised me, so to Aunt Catelyn's delicate sensibilities, I'm not a proper prince, whatever that means."

"Aren’t you legally the child of the queen and the king, and our princess consort just carried you to term?"

" _Yes_ ," he answered. "Doesn't matter now, I'm just going to throw my weight around tomorrow until I get my things back."

"Maybe right now isn't a good time to mention your school skirt is making me horny, huh?" She asked and Aemon noticed for the first time her eyes were glued to where his skirt bunched around his hips, his black boxers peeking out.

"Oh, no, it's the perfect time, Alys," he said, smirking.

"Mm, no, it's not," she shot back, smirking too.

"Well, it'll be as soon as these are all put away, won't it," he returned, pulling some of his hair loose from his bun to frame his face better. "Maybe we can even arrange something to your tastes," he all but purred, leaning over the piles of folded clothing towards Alys, who, to her credit, only smiled wider and winked. He sat back on his ankle, and turned over the loose contents onto the bed. "Like a sleepover or something, I do your hair, you do my makeup, I give you oral, you know. Girl things."

She laughed as she followed his lead sorting out makeup and skincare, shaking her head amusedly and dropping a bottle of makeup remover on the bed.

"Those are very peculiar ideas of what girls do in a sleepover," Alys pointed out.

"To be fair, every sleepover I've ever had with my siblings since I turned fifteen have been far more sex filled than what I just described, so you know. I toned it down a few notches."

"Really."

"I mean," he mused, throwing a pile of shirts in the suitcase, "not really. Egg and I had been betting handjobs over video games since I was thirteen."

"That’s the funniest thing since your discord usernames and no one will believe me on _either_ ," Alys bemoaned, filing an eyeshadow palette away with some singles in a travel bag clearly stained with makeup. Aemon put in his foundations there as well, moving onto sorting his tucking supplies. "Gods, how much shit fits inside one suitcase?!"

"Ha, fool, I have two wardrobes back home."

She slapped his arm, looked at him until he stuck out his tongue, then laughed in relief.

"Is it wrong that I'd let you fuck me if you kept on the skirt?" She asked, folding a bra.

"It's possible this is the first time I'm not deeply offended by it," Aemon said, thoughtfully.

“Also, you are possibly the first guy I know who even owns a pair of booty shorts written ‘property of the dragon’ on the back, my prince.”

He sighed, long-sufferingly, and pinched at his nose bridge dramatically.

“Alys, how many times did I ask you not to do that? We’re friends, we’ve been naked in the hot springs a lot when we were little. And Rhae and Aegon have matching ones.” He folded the booty shorts gently, smiling at it. “I remember the artist, a Myrcella Hill, was screaming about getting business from the Red Keep for weeks.”

“Gods, don’t remind me, her brother’s blog was riddled with theories about who in the keep was wearing that, and lemme tell you, they guessed the _king_ but not you. Apparently you’re too northern for jokes,” Alys laughed, and snatched the booty shorts from Aemon’s hands, shucking her own skirts and pulling it on. It was way too tight on her, and they laughed at the ridiculous fit. “How do I look?”

“Smashing.”

“Fucking word.”

“Can you fucking believe Sansa’s actually older than me by a year, though?” He asked, annoyed to no end again. “She just. Stole my limited edition palette like I wouldn’t _notice_ the sparkliest thing in my bag missing.”

“I hope she doesn’t feed you a line about it being a tax like she tried with Arya when Lord Stark confiscated her swords.”

“Oh, you bet she will, I know my cousin too.” He sighed. “How in hell am I more mature than Sansa, she’s in college, and I’m finishing high school!”

“Look, I’m gonna level with you, Aems,” Alys leaned in, almost whispering. “I heard rumors the lords and ladies were conspiring to have Lord Stark appoint Rickon the heir, because as wild as he is, the North has _seen_ wild Lord or Lady Starks before. We have never seen a _southern_ Lord or Lady Stark. She’s also so goddamn… the _opposite_ of ready for leadership, it’s hilarious, and she’s always up and down with that septa of hers. None of the eligible lords’ sons want her for a wife up here, too, which is telling, because she’s pretty enough.”

“She’s not northern enough,” he finished for her.

“Not by a long shot. She tried lobbying for a sept at Winterfell, just like her mother, ostensibly for Lady Catelyn, but we've all heard her speak. And she's more southron speaking than _you_ , however that is possible."

"Well," Aemon demurred, feigning being extremely flattered, "not like it's hard, my mother follows the old gods and my other parents are _heathens._ "

"You say it like you and your siblings _aren't_ heathens, too," she pointed out.

“Gods, we _are_ , aren’t we? Big dumbass heathens who encourage each other to dishonor our own betrothal,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Is it dishonoring if you’re all cool with it?” Alys sat back, pensively, as Aemon put his more obscene skirts on the bottom of the suitcase. “I mean, It’s vaguely dawning on me that you’ll probably relay my 1 to 10 rating to _the Princess of Dragonstone_ , I’m getting nervous here.”

“Pfft, we don’t do that,” he said, dismissively, as Alys picked up a bottle of nearly used up hand lotion, eyebrow raised, and he pointed at the lube bottle near her ankle. “We do reviews, like this,” he dropped an armful of bottoms in his Aemma bag and picked up his phone, and scrolled up to the things he’d said about the Smalljon. “To use Rhae’s summary, ‘Pounded In The Ass By My Uncle’s Vassal Lord’s Son But He Didn’t Know I Was A Prince So He Went All In But It’s Okay Because I Liked It.’”

“Oh my gods, that sounds straight up like a Chuck Tingle book.”

_“I know,”_ he said, “It was so funny, though, Jon had no idea who I was through the magic of makeup--”

“And also, you don’t expect a prince to be prancing about in slutty clothes or begging for cock,” Alys pointed out.

“I mean, you’re right, but to be fair, not even Robb knew the first time I busted out my Aemma clothes.”

“‘Aemma’, really?” Alys rolled her eyes. "Frankly, I thought you would choose a more matching set name for your drag persona."

He tried not to bristle at being called a drag queen, but he knew Alys noticed it.

"I try to make my mother happy sometimes, and sticking to the name she gave me makes her happy. Plus, father's face when he has to call me 'Aemma' instead of 'Visenya' is priceless."

“Oh, so the king knows? I heard Lord Eddard talking to Lord Stark on my way here, and they seemed to be under the impression the king was unaware of your… deviant ways, they called it,” she commented, an impish smile breaking through at the end.

“Well, I bought five too many things from a company with ‘gothic’ in the name. Father got suspicious bc it was showing up in Rhaenys’ personal expenses.” He shrugged. “I mean, can you see my sister wearing as much black as I do?”

“I’m impressed your father even knew what gothic means, to be honest,” Alys replied, picking up what he knew was the millionth black garment he put back into his bag.

“He searched. I’m glad to inform that some taxpayer money went into a whole lost afternoon of my father being thoroughly entertained in the goth tag on instagram, because apparently that’s what he was as a teenager.” Aemon shook his head, putting his bag of jewelry in.

“What a way to spend a day.” She leaned back, putting her socked feet on the side of the suitcase. “I bet he must be proud of _that_ , though.”

“I don’t know how to tell him I really _am_ just wearing the house colors, and not actually into a whole subculture based on the feeling of the fleetingness of life and the ineffableness of mortality, but yeah, Father’s happy.”

"How did your father even miss that? He used to take vacations at Summerhall to play sad songs!" Alys exclaimed, wide eyed and completely confused. "He wore eyeliner, for fuck’s sake!"

"His best friend was Lord Connington. You can see how a mistake like that is made when your best friend was a _biker_."

_"Still."_ She laughed. "Gods, I missed our illicit sleepovers."

"You say that as if we were doing half of what I've done even the other day with Jon Umber." Aemon waved his hand, dismissive.

“Well, the six-to-twelve-year-old equivalent, anyway.” She picked up his makeup bag, and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Wanna tango, mister prince?”

“What do you mean? You want me to paint you like my Oldtown whores?” He tilted his head to the side, smiling, hand going out to retrieve the bag, but Alys was faster, and turned away from him, with the bag, and lost her balance from the mattress’ springs bouncing, laughing and just standing there, stunned for a hot second, her ass in the air with his stupid booty shorts proclaiming ‘property of the dragon’, and Aemon’s traitorous, hormone-booby-trapped mind helpfully supplied him with images of another dark-skinned, dark-haired girl laughing with her ass up in the same booty shorts but in black on orange. "Maybe get up, it's weird talking to someone's ass." He got closer nonetheless.

Alys shamelessly pushed her butt towards his face, and Aemon thought it really said _something_ about him that he didn't flinch away from it.

"Whyever not? Will your _promised ones_ ," Aemon could see the imaginary tildes around the words, "say the same if asked?"

"No, but Egg takes any excuse available to put his face in someone's ass, so it's a moot point." He grabbed her hips and pulled her down, accidentally placing her on his lap and onto his unfortunate boner. "Uh…"

"Someone's happy," she commented, casually, wiggling around for a more comfortable position, sitting sideways. "Aems, why don’t you… enjoy the situation a little more?"

"What are you suggesting, Alys?" He asked, putting a hand on her thigh, and the other on her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I mean, I could do whatever, but I want to hear what you have in mind," he said, trying to be nonchalant but failing, curiosity burning in his veins.

"I was thinking… you do my makeup, I do your hair, you eat me out, wasn't that your original idea?"

He knew she felt the little twitch from his very interested cock, she didn't need to announce it to the world with a little giggle.

"I might be agreeable to that, yes," he replied, trying to keep his cool because it was happening.

_“Might,”_ she mocked, leaning backwards so she could face him from a distance. “That’s a bitchboy answer, Aemon.”

“You say that as if that’s not me.” He pushed her off his lap, then grabbed his makeup bag.

“Hmm, the Bitch Boy Prince. Sounds fancy.” 

Aemon eyed a shirt on his boy bag, and slung the one he was wearing into a pile of laundry on a chair, then pulled the clean one on, striking a pose with his chest out. The new tee also had writings on it, much like his shorts Alys stole.

“‘I’m a luxury, few can afford’, are you serious, Aems?” Alys started laughing, shaking her head, “honestly, you’re like the easiest person I know, all one has to do is smile in your general direction!”

He rolled his eyes at her, sticking his middle finger in her face as she laughed louder, pushing his hand off. He was so busy trying not to blush he didn’t notice when Alys stopped laughing and instead started smiling impishly at him.

“Aems?” she called, “look here.”

He did.

Alys held his hand like it was, middle finger up, and put her mouth on the finger, tongue first, and then _sucked_.

The sound he made was so pathetic, it must’ve sounded very much like a little dog pup crying after someone stepped on his tail. Aemon was suddenly painfully aware that he could shift his position however he wanted, a pleated skirt was much, _much_ less effective at hiding a boner than pants.

“Oh,” Alys said, when she pulled out of his finger. “Wynna told me boys stopped functioning when you so much as implied sucking on their cocks, but it’s so ridiculous that it works on _any_ boy, regardless of experience.”

“Alys, you’re aware that the more experience you have the more images you have to think about when someone does that, right?” He muttered, still stunned still on his spot, throat dry.

“Gods, I’ve never noticed how fucking _purple_ your eyes are.”

“Alys, I swear to the Father--”

She bit on his finger, lightly, and the words died in his throat.

“It’s like an off button,” she muttered, marvelling at her discovery as he bemoaned the fact that he _knew_ this happened every time, because it was what he did to Aegon when he wanted _his brother_ to shut up. He should've seen this coming, and yet.

Yet, he found himself with a lapful of curious girl, a makeup bag, and a boner that wouldn't go away. 

He couldn't stop being aware she was wearing his shorts, and that they were too snug on her.

"Do me," she said, and Aemon kissed her, the bag between them forgotten, hands immediately going to her ass, until she pushed him, giggling. "I meant _my makeup,_ silly."

"That… that makes sense, yeah," he replied, dazedly, lowering his eyes to the bag in question and tried not to look at how Alys' thighs were bracketing his hips enticingly.

Every time his hand swiped the brush too close to her mouth, Alys bit his hand lightly. Every time he leaned in to look at something better, she bit his lip, not so lightly.

"My turn," she declared, and he surrendered his tools to her, as she pushed him down on the bed, scooting over to sit on his chest, and for a second, he thought she was going to just plain sit on his face, shorts and all.

Alys stood up, shimmying out of the shorts and her panties, and Aemon was sure that there was no part of his brain that wasn't preoccupied with taking in the sight of his friend's bare legs and bare cunt.

"Changed my mind," she explained, shrugging, sitting on the bed right beside his head, legs spread out. "C'mon and show me what's got our future queen recommending your skills, then."

"Fuck, you're terrible," Aemon replied, with no real bite, crawling off the bed with his hands on Alys' thighs, maneuvering her to the edge of the mattress, and leaning his head on her legs, arms still wrapped around them. "Don't tell Rhae, but your thighs are much better than hers."

"Mine have cellulitis," she counters.

"So does Rhae’s. Yours are nicer. Give that real feel you could squish me for real."

She _did_ squeeze him a little, heels hitting Aemon’s back lightly.

"Well, then, I want the royal treatment, _my prince_. But please, no more rhymes."

**[M &Aems]**  
I regret listening to any of you two.  
I have a laughing cramp, and so does Alys.  
She says hi, by the way.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Oh, hi, Alys!  
Why do you have a _laughing_ cramp of all possible sex cramps

**[M &Aems]**  
We tried getting serious, you know, get this thing done good and proper.  
And then we started out on the wrong foot, because we were laughing too hard already because _we’re best buddies_ and every time something happened, we had to make a joke out of it.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
OI WTF  
U dont ever do _that_ with _us_ , whenever _i_ try u go all ‘dis b serious’ n shit

**[M &Aems]**  
I mean, you weren’t the very first person that wasn’t my mother, Robb or Uncle Ned to see my dick, that honor belongs to the lady beside me with her cold ass feet under my legs, so like.  
I’ve always had much more to prove to you two than to Alys.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
That’s untru, ive seen ur little dicky approximately fifteen minutes after ur _emergency c-section_ , through a glass from a place they call the baby aquarium, u were screaming bloody murder and tried to pee on everyone.

**[M &Aems]**  
So the first person I _remember_ being consensually naked with, then. (edited)  
Don’t force me to get oddly specific, Egg, I can see you typing  
About the time you jumped into my bath when I was six, and newsflash, Alys and I jumped into the hot springs of Winterfell naked at _three_ years old, and no, our mothers putting us in the same bathtub for pictures _does not count_.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Did you just do that thing where u break ur sentence just to get me to stop typin

**[M &Aems]**  
Yes.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
That was a rly fast edit there wow

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Ok but were getting sidetracked here  
U said ur laying in bed  
NEKKID???

**[M &Aems]**  
No, we’re in the sluttiest clothes I own, actually, Alys is on her phone trying to find a decent bar we can go to right now. It’s just like. Hour of the bat, they call it? 10PM?

**[Rhaevioli]**  
I hope ur not going to get drunkt ur on the recovery of a hangover

**[M &Aems]**  
Oh wow, first of all, drinking is not why you go to bars in the North. At least not _entirely_ .  
We’re going to have virgin drinks bc Alys is 17 still, and eat some garbage food.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
U mean junk food

**[M &Aems]**  
 _I know what I said_ .  
 _Img_93785982.jpg_ _  
_Peace, sluts.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
 _Oh my gods_ _  
__Why have the customs of Valyria limited us to a trio_ _  
__We’re missin out on quality aems selfies bc alys can’t be our wife too_

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
We can always marry in duos and refuse to acknowledge a separation of relationship  
But then i wont be married to aems which is sad asf  
 _Why must life be so unfair_  
  


They got the biggest of earfuls from both Lord Karstark and Uncle Brandon for sneaking out to Tormund’s, and apparently, Lord Karstark seemed to be under the impression _Alys_ was the bad influence there, as if Aemon wasn’t just as bad as her.

_“Anything_ could’ve happened to you two! That was highly irresponsible, Alys!” Lord Karstark chastised her, while Alys looked at the wall behind him with a bored expression.

“Yeah, sorry, father,” she replied, pointedly not promising to not do it again.

“I have half a mind to not comply with Princess Rhaenys’ request of sending you as one of her maids.” Old Rickard was frowning something fierce, and Alys tried not to look very interested, opting instead to act as if that would be the worst thing to ever happen to her.

“Are you even listening to me, Aemon?” Uncle Brandon asked, tiredly. “I’d say I wish your father had sent one of your siblings to sit in the council with us tomorrow, if I thought one of them was better behaved.”

“We took Jaime and asked him to coordinate a stealth op. It’s not like we left the building unprotected,” he drawled, tiredly. “Seriously, Uncle Brandon, you think we’d be that irresponsible?”

“You’re your mother’s son, so while I don’t doubt your word, Aems, _I worry_.”

“Child,” he corrected.

“You were born from the loins of the same woman who actively courted _the King and the Queen_ , in full view of national press, so yes, excuse an old uncle for worrying,” Uncle Brandon replied, not missing a beat. “So, if the secret service was in on it, then it’s settled, right, Rickard?” He turned to the other lord, smiling. Aemon turned too, hands in the pockets of his very tightly closed winter sheepskin coat, the kind that masked out entire silhouettes. With the coat closed, all one could see were his riding boots and his faux-leather pants. No one else in present company but Alys needed to know that under the coat there was only a very transparent black silk shirt over a very red lacy bra, and that the faux garter that was attached to his panties were showing.

“They were? Oh, well, in _that_ case, you’re off the hook, little lady, but after this, no more stunts. We’re heading to Karhold and you’re on your best behavior until a week before class starts, which is when you’re heading south. We’re clear?” Lord Rickard asked.

“Yes, father,” Alys tried her best to sound stoic, but Aemon was used to much, much better actors down south. He supposed it was enough to fool people up north, but she would have to work on it a lot if she would work with Rhaenys. “Also, before you’re grounded to this hotel for the duration of our visit, Alys, please refrain from these harebrained ideas of putting makeup on the prince. You’re lucky no one recognized him.”

“Uh, I put makeup on myself, Lord Karstark,” Aemon said, before he could stop himself. “It’s not something one would expect of me, according to literally everyone I know, which made for a perfect disguise,” he tacked on, embarrassed.

“Ah,” the old man let out, confused. “It’s… It’s fine. Still, your grace… Don’t go along with her ideas.”

“As you ask, my lord,” he replied, nodding in the direction of the bowing lord. “If it’s not too much trouble, Alys and I were in the middle of a sleepover, like when we were younger,” Aemon concluded, pulling Alys by the hand before anyone could object, Jaime and his underlings forming a protective wall as soon as was polite.

He could hear Lord Karstark commenting that if the betrothals weren’t already set in stone he might’ve sent word to the king, and heard his uncle’s even louder boisterous claim that if they weren’t in some rocky political terrain already, the Crown Princess would likely be all for one more. It didn’t seem to ease Lord Karstark’s mind.

“That was terrifying,” he told Alys. “Let’s not do that again while we’re in the North.”

“Oh, my gods, agreed,” she nodded, holding onto Aemon’s arm like a lifeline.

**[M &Aems]**  
We lived. Barely.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Oh thank fuck  
Did her brothers catch u two in the act or

**[M &Aems]**  
No, we had fun, sneaked out to a bar to eat greasy food and drink fizzy drinks, had some wholesome bathroom fun, and got caught as we sneaked back because Lord Karstark was apparently very worried about his daughter’s virtue at one-thirty in the morning.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
What even is a wholesum bathroom fun  
Never heard of her

**[M &Aems]**  
I mean, as wholesome as having hands inside each other’s pants can be.  
This new turn of friendship is very enlightening.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ah so wholesum as in defz fuckn but w/o the messy part where u c the jizz leakin out n shit gotcha

**[M &Aems]**  
DON’T YOU DARE make me miss home right now, Aegon Targaryen. I still have a few MONTHS of touring around after I’m done with school.  
Fuck, I won’t see any of you two until _Conquest Day_ .  
Father truly woke up one day, and thought, _how can I make my children miserable today_ , and came up with “Sending Aemon on a post-graduation tour” as a suitable plan and _it’s working._

**[Rhaevioli]**  
You could, like  
Book a flight here and out to school, on the same day  
It’s allowed

**[M &Aems]**  
Improper use of public taxes aside, you two know I _hate_ flying.  
Also, there’s this small hurdle in your plan, Rhae. It’s called Aems’ Anxiety About Bumbling Bureaucracy.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Thats not a hurdle that’s the fuckn wall  
Fine, i’ll fly over with egg, kiss ur ass better, then fuck ur ass better, and were back

**[M &Aems]**  
I mean, I was going to suggest that, since I end the tour in the Crownlands anyway, that you two would be the last ones in the list I’m trying to make of possible marks.  
Alys told me that maybe three per kingdom should be more than enough to unwind properly during what she won’t stop calling a ‘business meeting’. You’ll get along with her just fine, Rhae.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
I like her so much already and i havent even shared more than six sentences with her, one of them being about recommending your linguistic skills.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
O a list? Can we see?

**[M &Aems]**  
It’s ABSOLUTELY incomplete and a draft but…  
 _Img_3485.jpg_

[ ](https://img.pillowfort.social/posts/d6618804d75d_list%204%20aemons%20sex%20tour%20fic.png)

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
I love that u kept alys comments  
She just callin a prince out like that huh

**[M &Aems]**  
Understand: this list is useless without her commentary.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Really understanding that youll probs fuck a cousin in every kingdom thanks to cousin robert is real targaryen experience

**[M &Aems]**  
Not even gonna start kidding myself about that.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Also pls keep in mind if u actually fuck a frey ur dead to me  
And whos to say u _cant_ fuck two tyrells, its ur hit list aems  
Fuck marg and loras who cares we all know theyd line tf up

**[M &Aems]**  
I care. And who the fuck said anything about Marge, I was thinking about one of her cousins. Elinor is pretty cute.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Im fckn impressed that lady desmera is there  
Scratch that im rly not  
‘I like ur hair’ - aems age 14

**[M &Aems]**  
Stop being a monument to my social ineptitude.

He didn’t even know why the lords required a royal presence for this summit, but Aemon knew better than to ask about it at this point. It wasn’t that his presence was paramount (in fact, they don’t need royal supervision to hold a regional council at all), but he had to admit, it felt pretty good to be weaned into adult life with a ton of responsibilities amid people he knew, trusted and were fairly more forward than any single human being in King’s Landing.

His uncle encouraged him to ask questions and familiarize himself with the bookkeeping all week, and it paid off whenever he’d raise an issue and the lords would look at him approvingly, and discuss the idea. Smalljon was even there, as his father’s heir, sometimes giving him a thumbs up that he forced himself to ignore out of sheer decorum, but once or twice he nodded in Jon’s general direction.

When he told Rhaenys about it, she sent him a string of party poppers and fire emojis, followed by a string of peach and eggplant emojis that were all he needed to know his siblings were in the same place together.

He missed them. He missed Rhaenys and Aegon like he figured one would miss a limb, if any limbs were annoying and prone to ambushing him in his quarters for some “family fun”. And if said family fun was related to why his mother and stepmother would tap out in the three instances they had to have the sex talk with his father and grandmother.

_(“I can’t do this,” his mother said, picking up her phone from the desk and getting off the chair. “Do whatever you want, Rhaegar, but I can’t do this.”_

_“This what?” Aemon’s voice came crackly and fragile. He thought she was rejecting him, because that’s what it sounded like._

_“No, baby, uh… Mom wasn’t raised like you were, sweetheart. It’s nothing against any of this in general, but… I’d rather not talk about siblings as potential partners. Makes me think about your uncles and… No. Just no.”)_

The third one was the less fun, because they had to sit there, listening to their father and queenly grandmother talk about how to navigate being in a relationship with a sibling, while trying to think of a way to break it to them they’ve been doing the royal version of dating for around two years by then.

_But alas_ , Aemon thought, bitterly, packing up his things neatly into their designated bags and appropriate suitcases, dreading the conversation he’d need to have with Sansa within the hour, _they’re in King’s Landing, doing uni, and I’m the baby brother heading to prep school in the Vale._

Jaime knocked on his door, announcing Lady Alys Karstark’s arrival. He was very proud that he didn’t even flinch when Alys full-bodied him into the bed.

“So, ready to lecture your cousin, who’s older than you, about what proper handling of someone’s things looks like?” she asked, unconcerned.

“If you’re quite ready to get off me, I’ll be closing my suitcases and we can go,” he replied.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Reclaim whats urs lil bro  
Grab that eyeshadow  
Yell v loudly at ur cuz bc who tf steals a wedding ring

**[M &Aems]**  
Thanks, Egg.

They knocked at Sansa’s room’s door, and brushed past her guard because he was a _prince on a mission_ , gods damn it.

“Prince Aemon Targaryen, my lady,” the poor man called out as Aemon stormed into Sansa’s rooms.

“Ah, Aems!” she greeted, awkwardly, shuffling in place and hiding her hands behind her back like a child that’s done an oopsie. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He threw two of his ruined dresses at her face.

“Give me back my eyeshadow palette and my fucking engagement ring, Sansa.”

“... what?”

“You fucking heard me, I want my eyeshadow palette and my engagement ring. They weren’t in my things when my suitcase was returned, and my things were in your room, and you _ruined_ two of my dresses, too, two _custom made_ dresses!” He all but screamed at her. To her credit, Sansa didn’t flinch, though all the color drained from her face. “What, you didn’t think I’d get my things back, or that I wouldn’t notice some of my things vanishing because clearly I can replace them easily?”

“... I didn’t think father would agree with your… deviations,” she said, finally, looking so much like her mother at that moment it made him hesitate a bit.

“Uncle Brandon doesn’t have to agree to anything. The only reason I went along with any of that disciplining bullshit was because you’re family.” He paused to take a breath. “Understand, Sansa, you can either give me back my things the easy way, or I can call in Jaime and have his men search your room top to bottom, which I should do anyway, because Jaime knows what my things look like and would find them all very, very easily.”

“Aw, c’mon, Aems, I came to see a complete search and recoup, you’re being entirely too nice,” Alys said, put-upon as per the script they had joked about on the way.

“Ugh, why are you taking his side, Alys? You know that’s not normal, anyway,” Sansa grumbled, but acquiesced anyway, turning around and fishing about her bag for the requested items.

“Um, I don’t know what you’re talking about, my lady,” Alys said, entirely too cheerful. “There are traditionally three genders in Valyrian culture, and there are _four_ in traditional First Men lore, so really, what we know as normal in the North is very malleable compared to you southrons.”

They saw the way Sansa stiffened up, and Aemon took solace in the fact his cousin would find no commiseration amongst her people, when it came to her deviant cousin.

“Yeah, but that’s _history_ , people don’t do that anymore.”

“Look, my lady. You might be the heir to my liege lord, but you need to get your act together. None of us, your future bannermen, are exactly happy with how you’re all _andal_ ,” Alys deadpanned, perfectly dead serious. “So, if you don’t want to be met with a petition to skip you in favor of Lord Rickon, you’d do well to listen to me right now: no proper northman fucking cares that your cousin wears skirts part time.”

“They should, it’s not _normal_.”

“Well, your _god_ is a dùblachadh, so your cousin being one shouldn’t be that surprising, nor unnatural, in my opinion as a _proper_ northwoman.”

“Zaldriz,” Aemon corrected, under his breath, and Alys nodded discreetly in acknowledgement. He knew, the two labels were practically analogous, but the little idiosyncrasies mattered to him.

Alys’ inflection on the word ‘proper’ seemed to have Sansa bristling, but it looked like his cousin knew when she was beat. Her place as the Heir to Winterfell was too important to her to risk getting passed over because in one fell swoop, she managed to prove a Valyrian was more of the North than she was.

“Here,” she mumbled, displeased as all seven hells. “These eyeshadows aren’t even that good,” Sansa said, haughtily.

“And my ring?” Aemon demanded.

Sansa’s face curled up, but she put her hand in her pocket and pulled out his engagement ring.

“Can I have my room back, now?” Sansa asked, all impoliteness and indecorum, which was exactly the reactions he liked eliciting from his uptight cousin.

“Keep the dresses, by the way, you ruined them too hard for me to be able to put them on again,” he called on his way out.

**[M &Aems]**  
I can’t wait to get back in King’s Landing, and see you two greeting me with a new engagement ring.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Did u actually lose ur ring or did it go that badly

**[M &Aems]**  
Sansa might’ve put this one on her finger, and I’m afraid andal dualism is infectious.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Ur uncle is still cool, so ur probs safe  
Throw sum alcohol on it to be sure tho

**[Rhaevioli]**  
We are meant to give each other some proper engagement rings anyway, like, one from each involved part.  
So dw lil bro we’re getting u some cool ass dope bling with love to replace the tainted one.

**[M &Aems]**  
Fuck, I really liked this one, too. It was like, the proof that Egg can be thoughtful and caring, and now it’s… it’s gone.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
As ur northern friens wuld say: get tae fuck.  
I can b nice n tender 2  
Come @ me bruh lemme lov u long time

**[M &Aems]**  
Ahhh, love the smell of Egg’s bullshit in the morning.  
No, really, I really do.  
Miss you two.  
(Northmen don’t talk like that, you tit.)

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Combo attack, we’re both down mayday mayday

White Harbor was both Aemon’s favorite and least favorite part of the North, because every time he was there, he was either coming from the Vale to visit family, or going back to the Vale from visiting family.

His relationship with the North’s only proper metropolis was… complicated to say the least. His relationship with the _heirs_ to White Harbor’s New Castle, however, was a tossup at best.

He liked Wynafryd, and Wylla was fun to be around, but… 

“So, Alys told me you have a bang list,” Wylla commented, casually, over dinner, like it was the most natural of talks to be had. “And she also mentioned something about the average Targaryen sleepover being much funnier than a regular, other people sleepover.”

“That’s… very forward, Lady Wylla,” he said, as casually as he could be while recovering from a rice going down the wrong pipe.

“I hear my good friend put my name forward.”

“She might’ve,” he nodded, still a bit red and doing everything he can to kill the blush.

“Good. Want to go sailing before you have to go to school like the rest of us poor, unfortunate souls?”

“Fucking hells, don’t remind me. I’m definitely _dreading_ the last quarter.”

“Fucking finals,” Wylla nodded, sagely, her neon green hair bobbing slightly.

_“Fucking finals,”_ he agreed wholeheartedly.

“And how goes the planning for your wedding?” Wylla asked, in the same tone she started the conversation, and Aemon took a deep breath, and made a mental note to tell Lord Manderly his youngest daughter was spending far too much time down at the docks.

“We talked Egg out of bringing Balerion’s skull to the sept, so we should be good.” He poked at his fish, shaking his head at the memory. “We didn’t entirely convince him _not_ to bring a dragon skull as decoration, so look forward to Vhagar’s skull looming over the altar.”

“Charming. But I suppose I’d expect nothing less of a sibling of the prince who tried finding dragon eggs in the Winterfell crypts until he found a new hot spring by going into a condemned tunnel and nearly boiled to death.”

“I forgot how good your memory is,” he groaned, and Wylla smiled.

“Oh well, it was memorable anyway; it’s not everyday Lord Stark nearly loses his marbles screaming at a prince; last time it was because of the King’s marriage to Princess Lyanna,” she said, smiling slightly.

“Neither of us was alive for that one,” he agreed, sadly. “I wish uncle Brandon would yell at some _other_ prince than me, but alas, Egg won’t come north, and Father is no longer a prince. Though it might be extra worth it to see Uncle yelling at the King.”

“Whatever would he even yell at the king for, the clear favoritism towards his dornish kids’ wishes or the clear snubbing of the north when choosing consorts for the Crown Princess? After all, there’s two dornish against one northman,” she joked, over a glass of lemon soda.

“Those aren’t all that terrible odds,” he murmured into his glass, “after all, if there’s people who know how to treat a youngest sibling, are Targaryen-Martell siblings.”

Wylla snorted her soda out of her nose laughing.

“How in the seven hells are these jokes so fucking _funny_ , you’re literally being a godsdamned _heathen_ , but here we are.”

“I’ll have you know that we’ll be marrying in the light of the Seven, so we are not heathens, but very pious.”

“Indeed, making the eight is a very faithful, pious service,” she intoned, sagely.

“Making the eight, you say. I intend to shame cousin Robert, I’ll tell you that. Not in bastard children numbers, Rhaenys would castrate me, but like. People numbers.”

“It’s the reason the man’s heir is Lady Shireen, any woman would. Who’s to say it hasn’t happened yet?”

“Gods, Wylla, you’re so fucking _wise_.”

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Not to be Meane, but g o d s, if i have to hear Tommen Lannister cry about his plush cat one more time, i’m throwin balerion on his face

**[M &Aems]**  
You’d make the kid’s day like that, you should do it.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
… u rite  
How’s the progress with the wy manderly of ur choice

**[M &Aems]**  
We’re going sailing tonight.  
Apparently there’s a pod of leviathans just off the coast that had the unluckiness of being plagued with bioluminescent barnacles, and I’m aching with curiosity.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Welp thats it we lost him rhae. Wish we knew the way 2 aems heart was shiny sea creatures

**[M &Aems]**  
… Egg, are you drinking?

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Mayhaps.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
He used ~punctuation~  
Who tf said u could start w/o me egg

**[M &Aems]**  
He’s not drunk, he can never find the period when he’s drunk.  
I daresay he’s jealous.  
If you want me to stop, I will, you just have to say the word, Egg.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Hm like its not jealousy. Its more like  
I just realized aems will b havin a ton of sex and it wont b w us  
hes like  
Gonna probs kno a ton of stuff + b all wise n shit  
And im glad 4 him but im kinda upset he wont b learnin that w us u kno

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Um. Valid worries.

**[M &Aems]**  
Counter argument: anything I end up learning might bolster up my confidence, which might lead to me being less uptight about being good enough, which might lead to me finally doing that ridiculous roleplay you wanted, Egg.  
Also I remember your complaints about me taking sex too seriously between us and raise that with confidence comes less to prove. I'm your baby brother, comes with the territory to be insecure, especially about pleasing your own future spouses.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Still, it feels lik im gon b the 1 w sth to prove then

**[M &Aems]**  
You wrangled my first messy, preteen orgasm out of me, and it was awkward and messy but I still love you, don't I? You'll have nothing to prove to me, except maybe in the girth department.  
I can still feel Jon Umber's dick, by the fucking light of the Seven.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Literally everything's downhill from then isnt it.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
The bar was set 2 high on the 1st try  
I feel inadequate already  
Quick rhae the po box no of lord varys, i gots cock sleeves 2order.

**[M &Aems]**  
Overcome and adapt, I see.

"Wylla," Aemma called, softly, and the girl startled, turning around and looking at her confusedly until she recognized her.

"Oh, Prince Aemo--" she started, but Aemma shushed her.

"It's Aemma Waters," she winked, "at least out here." Her eyes shifted around to the other people in the dock. She hated having to hide, but really. People calling her Aemma made her feel extremely good at times.

"Ah, Alys mentioned." Wylla shuffled on her feet a little before taking Aemma's hand and guiding her down the pier. "I feel inadequate, now."

Aemma looked at the other girl, who was dressed in practical, sporty sailing clothes that looked slightly used, then down her own ensemble of swimsuit, short cotton shorts and flip-flops, with a long golden chain wrapped three times around her neck and golden hoops she stole from Rhae, and grimaced a little.

"If anything, I'm the one poorly dressed." She waved her hand, fully aware her bracelets were clinking softly as she moved her arm.

"Pffft, father has upgraded me from my dinghy a while ago," she laughed, and Aemma giggled with her. "We could be dressed for a royal ball and we would be dressed alright for the Green Kelp II."

"In honor of your favorite hair dye shade?"

"No, my dye is called Verdant Tea; it's in honor of the nickname Wynna gave me when I dyed my hair."

“When Egg set up discord for me, he put my nickname as M&Aems, because apparently, I’m a snack,” she offered, as Wylla paused in front of a small yacht.

“I thought Alys _lied_ about that, because there’s no way you would-- Actually, you _didn’t_ , really, did you.” She looked at her accusingly, and pulled out the boat keys. “You just kept a joke to fit in with your siblings.”

“Please, I wrote theirs,” she said, waving it off. “They could only think of it because I was actually eating M&Ms at the time.”

“Still not eating the greens?” Wylla teased, smirking. “Do they still taste like kale?”

“Oh, do shut up,” she laughed, “now, I believe we’re supposed to go see some sparkly leviathans?”

  
  


**[M &Aems]**  
Only managed to kiss Wylla, I am a failure.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Oh  
Sucks bro

**[M &Aems]**  
Nah it’s fine.  
She wasn’t feeling it either. The leviathans were pretty, though. Really lighting up, it was fun.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Aw shucks, does it count for ur thing tho

**[M &Aems]**  
Yes??? She took me to see the shiny leviathans, that’s better than sex in my opinion.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Hes leavin us rhae  
He likes boatin better than us

**[M &Aems]**  
Don’t be dramatic, Egg.  
 _Img_93477192348.jpg_ _  
_Look at these leviathans! They’re heading towards King’s Landing and Blackwater Bay in a moon! Think of me when you look out into the bay from the battlements at Maegor’s at night and see creepy ghastly bodies moving in the deep, dark waters like wraiths come to eat the drowned souls of the unlucky!

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
A E M O N HOLY SEVEN SHITS  
RHAE COLLECT OUR BROTHER WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS CREEPY

**[Rhaevioli]**  
The north is terrible for him, we been knew this, egg  
As long as we’re not dragged to any more of Little Dicky’s theater pieces im fine tbh

He was going sailing back to school. It was boring, and tedious, and an unnecessary flair of the family’s importance, but Aemon would have to endure it. Yes, endure it.

He glanced at cousin Aurane again, shirtless on the rigging of the yacht, seeing if the light wind storm didn’t knock anything loose.

Yes. He was going to have to take this one for the team. What horrible, terrible, no good fate he was suffering.

**[M &Aems]**  
 _Img_7364783.jpg_  
If this is punishment for the heart attack I gave Uncle Brandon, father is going about it the wrong way.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Hmmm cousin aurane candids

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
_Dat ass doe_

**[M &Aems]**  
 _Img_734957.jpg_ _  
_Rhae, did you lose Balerion? Also I want to _be_ this cat so bad.

**[Rhaevioli]**  
OH, we didnt tell u? Balerions mistress had kittens a few months ago, that’s his babyyyy, thats Vermax!  
Also that’s a lucky kitten mother and maiden help me

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
2 b a smol black kitten n lick those abs

**[M &Aems]**  
To be a small black kitten to purr at Aurane am I right or _am I right_ ?  
Does he even have a permit for those guns

**[Rhaevioli]**  
I love that everytime we see cousin aurane we do this and we don’t even change the words but it never gets old  
True sibling bonding is telling each other how much we’d like to gang up on cousin aurane

He snorted at Rhaenys’ joke, looking back at Aurane petting the kitten, who batted at his fingers, licking and biting it, and Aemon really fucking wanted to be that kitten right now.

“Don’t you think you’re too grown up to be in other people’s laps, your grace?” Aurane asked, and Aemon could feel his soul being reaped by the Stranger so very tenderly. He’d said it out loud, and Rhaenys would be so fucking disappointed in him. He looked away, to the man’s amusement. “I was just waiting for one of you to slip up like that, it’s very hard to ignore how you three stare. None of you are very subtle.”

“Rhaenys will resent that a lot; she thinks she’s very sneaky.”

“She is _not_ , but she’s still more subtle than you or gods forbid, Prince Aegon. He’d be more discreet if he were hanging off my arm,” Aurane said, laughing.

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Aemon responded, still a little dazed at having this conversation at all.

“Like, it’s all very flattering, don’t misunderstand me, your grace. But there are only so many angles someone can give on a ship, and I’m really running out here. One would think being betrothed to each other, you three would find something better to do.”

“It’s sibling bonding.”

Aurane raised an eyebrow at him, Vermax wriggling in his arms again.

“You have weird ways of doing that, your grace.”

**[M &Aems]**  
True sibling bonding is informing said siblings cousin Aurane absolutely knows what we’re doing and is flattered and finds it funny, which is why we see him shirtless and in good angles so often.  
This man is a _gift_.

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
Wait wat  
He kno????  
F U C K

**[Rhaevioli]**  
Legends only

**[Eggs Benedict]**  
BUY HIS SILENCE AEMS  
BUY IT WITH UR ASS

**[M &Aems]**  
You have no idea how appealing that idea is, Egg.


	2. The Vale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vale was too Holy, Aemon had...... revelations at a monastery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to the person who i told it wouldn't take longer than august: im sorry i lied akjsdfajkdjf it wasn't my intention, i just had terrible writer's block in favor of ~drawing~
> 
> anyway, have this. Next up is the riverlands, BUT. it's going to take a longass while, sorry, I dived headlong into promare (an anime movie) and have still 3-4 pieces to finish for a zine aksjdskfjdkj
> 
> consider this fic on hiatus, bUT. it shall be finished! and i shall be back with art for this! owo

Being back at school for the last three months of it was pure, agonizing torture, so when Harry Hardyng and his posse said they were going out to have fun, well. Aemon didn’t even think before saying no, then pulling his phone and his Aemma bag.

* * *

**[M &Aems]**   
I’m going to a party undercover to get what’s so nice about Harry the Arse’s dick.   
He’s on my list 100% bc of what I hear the girls in my class talk about, and I want to know  _ why _ .

**[Rhaevioli]**   
:sunglasses:   
Do share ur findings aems   
Dont forget to write it down or it isnt science

**[M &Aems]**   
Aye aye, mistress.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Mistress of evil   
She said she would com over w dem toys n just…   
Im waitin rhae   
Tick tock

**[Rhaevioli]**   
I SAID i’d be there when i finished here seven almighty   
U think it’s easy writing a thesis bitchboy? Wanna come here and try it???

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
No thank u i shall wait for my time then   
Its just TORTURE rhae   
Ur there im here and im horn   
Knowin aems gonna get some even if the dick is subpar is makin me jellilicious   
FUCKIN CANDY CRUSH WHO TF IS PLAYIN   
Oh shit i almost yelled at mother rip

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Press f to pay respects

**[M &Aems]**   
F.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
….. F

* * *

If he had known before that all he needed to be invited, as a stranger, into Harry Hardyng’s VIP booth was wear short skirts, high heels and a purple wig, he’d had done it sooner.

As it was, Aemma found herself almost on Harry’s lap, the other’s hand dangerously high on her leg, smiling like it isn’t at all creepy that Harry keeps trying to ply her with alcohol.

“... and yeah, I told her, it was good but her pussy’s too wide from all the other guys, and I just ain’t into it, you know?” Bryan Frey, a cousin to Harry if she remembered correctly, was saying, and she forced out a smile, deciding that maybe getting  _ very _ drunk wasn’t a bad idea after all.

She kept knocking down shot after shot, and at one point, she found herself being pressed against the club’s back wall face first, which usually she wouldn’t think too bad if Harry was bothering with anything else but his own dick.

“Relax, baby, daddy wants your tight ass, but I won’t hurt you,” Harry said, and Aemma took a deep breath to avoid saying anything. She severely doubted Harry wanted to know how he didn’t have enough cock to hurt her, and also to keep his kinks to himself. She was a Targaryen but even Valyrians had limits.

He pushed into her, and Aemma  _ did _ want this, she sneaked out of school to get absolutely smashed and wrecked into Harry Hardyng’s arms, because he did have nice guns, but when she felt him pulling out and his seed dribbling out just a few minutes into it…

God, what an  _ absolute fuckup of a manlet _ .

* * *

**[M &Aems]**   
I’ve had bad sex before.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Hate it when u preface it like that

**[M &Aems]**   
But nothing I’ve ever done in my life with anyone will ever be as bad as getting Harry Hardyng’s hair trigger cock in my ass, while dealing with his daddy kink, being pressed against the back wall of a club that doesn’t even have decent margaritas, and then being left for  _ dead _ because he just tucked himself in and  _ left, _ and left me with my skirt up and panties down like. I should talk to father to give Jaime a raise.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
This whole sentence is one punch after the other and finishes with a kick to the stomach, holy shit   
How bad exactly   
I mean i can see he came in abt 5 minutes and ur now looking for some sexting but   
Give us an estimate to know how bad

**[M &Aems]**   
Ok, so.   
Imagine you’re me, in a bar, getting REALLY drunk because if you’re still rather sober after hearing ANOTHER FUCKBOY complain that a girl’s cunt was too loose, you’ll lose your composure, cause a PR nightmare and send them to one night in jail because… I don’t know, I’d make something up, or Jaime would.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
So far so terrible

**[M &Aems]**   
RIGHT?   
Anyway, I’m drunk off my head, which suits me fine because I can just tune them out in favor of running my hands on Harry’s muscles, which are his ONLY redeeming quality; that and he looks like a young Lord Arryn, which we all agreed could get it.

**[Rhaevioli]  
** I can sense the wasted potential from here

**[M &Aems]**   
So Harry drags me outside, pushes me face first against a wall, which I’m not opposed to, I’m drunk and that’s, what was it again that you called?

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Aems #1 drunk fuck position

**[M &Aems]**   
_ That _ , thank you, Egg.   
I might have told him to fuck my throat too, because that wasn’t the club’s  _ bathroom _ , but that’s irrelevant, because he’s got my panties down already. And I might’ve muttered an ‘oh fuck’ slightly panicked, because  _ I don’t have a pussy _ , but then, he goes and says ‘oh daddy wants baby’s ass’ which?? I almost kick him off because I might be Valyrian but even Valyrians have limits.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Andals: marrying siblings is gross and ungodly!   
Also andals: mmmm i want u to imagine we r parents and im the parent fucking my child   
The  _ double standards _ amirite

**[M &Aems]**   
Explosive news: Crown Princess is a kinkshaming slut

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Mmm my kink is kinkshaming

**[M &Aems]**   
Continuing, you were far too generous in saying 5 minutes, Rhae. It was  _ three _ . Three minutes, I barely even felt a  _ thing _ , and he was pulling out, I have sticky dried cum on my  _ stockings _ , and I have half a mind to go to his dorm room half without makeup but still dressed like this to demand to know how much does he pay girls, normally, to pretend he’s such a good fuck because SEVEN HELLS, that was terrible.   
I’m this close to flying home and getting properly fucked, even if you’re not Umber-sized, your dick is still the only dick for me, Egg <3

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Im…   
Im cryin aems   
Just do it bro   
Come home i have a nice stretched asshole waiting for u

**[Rhaevioli]**   
How the 2 of u manage to make that sound sappy is beyond me

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Join in rhae bring ur strap on   
U kno deep down were just 2 bottoms yearning to be topped by our queen who we worship

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Why does that sound sappy and why is it so appealinggggg

**[M &Aems]**   
Take us, sister. Take us  _ hard _ :wink:

**[Rhaevioli]**   
I cant im too busy pissing my pants laughing

* * *

They didn’t manage the nice and tender sexting session that Aegon wanted so badly, but in the end Aemon did feel better about the absolutely abysmal sex.

Waking up the following day, with his head pounding and his dick still hard from a very nice dream he was having, where he and Egg were edging each other to see who came first and the loser would get to eat Rhae out, who was inexplicably in dominatrix latex gear (and he swore he was about to win when his alarm rang), was with pure, unadulterated contempt at having to be conscious when he was slightly hangover (drinking all that water before bed served only to make him go pee three times before actually sleeping) and finally understanding what the other guys his age called ‘blue balls’.

“What’s crawled up your ass and died, your grace?” Bryan Frey asked, patting him on the back, when Aemon dragged himself to class. He almost told Jaime to remove the other from his life with extreme prejudice.

“Harrold Hardyng,” he replied, grumpily, to the delight of Terrence Celtigar, a real buddy who absolutely knew what that meant but wouldn’t sell his secrets out, thankfully.

“Is he really that bad, my prince?” Terrence asked, whispering close.

“If you see any girl talking about him being good, ask them how much did he pay them to say that, because yesterday? I’d rather die than repeat it,” Aemon replied, morosely, hopefully looking as prickly as he felt. “Gods, I want to go home already.”

“If that isn’t the mood of the whole year,” the other boy said, with heavy feeling.

“Please, Father Above, make time pass faster, I want to go to the Eyrie to sit with Father while they work out budgets and get on with the progress from there.”

“Looking forward to those minutiae of ruling isn’t something I’ve ever thought I’d be doing too, but here we are, counting the damn fucking minutes,” Lady Alynne said, shaking her head, when Aemon sat beside her for the last Calculus lesson of their high school careers.

“I should make it illegal for classes this boring to last this long, but I know that someone out there doesn’t find this boring.” He doodled at the edge of his notebook already, not even a minute in.

“I know that doing math on the last day is harrowing, your grace, but please refrain from chit-chat,” the teacher called from the front of the class, and Aemon sighed, pulling out his phone and realizing that even  _ Egg _ won’t text him mid-class.

He quickly put his phone away, and pretended to pay attention; he knew from experience that nothing, no decorum or social faux pas, would keep this particular teacher from snatching his phone from his hands as if he was but another unruly rich child, and not a future consort to the throne, a prince in his own right.

* * *

**[M &Aems]**   
WOW! Thank you for not making up any family emergency! I absolutely loved just sitting there being lowkey horny because of a dream I had, listening to my teachers drone on and actually doing some last-minute teaching on  _ the last day _ of class! It was so fun and exciting!

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Oh gods u kno that we cant do that bro   
Were  _ the royal family _   
One google search n ur jig was up   
Caught w one hand on ur dick n the other in ur ass

**[M &Aems]**   
I’m not saying to text me that grandma died!   
Like, make up some small-scale family emergency, like one of Dany’s geckos died!

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
1 of em did die, but we didnt get any body 4 a funeral bc the others straight up ate it

**[M &Aems]**   
What the fuck.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
_ Gasp _ _   
_ _ The baby swore _

**[M &Aems]**   
I swear all the time.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Irrelevant the baby swore

**[Rhaevioli]**   
That aside, what’s this about a dream? Owo

**[M &Aems]**   
Thank you for knowing the things that matter, Rhae.   
It was a dream.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Titillating.

**[M &Aems]**   
Shut your fuck.    
I’m trying to remember enough details from the start to tell this dream, because starting at the end is kind of pointless.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
I like where this is headed

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Holy shit dis gon b gud

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Aems, u gud?

**[M &Aems]**   
SO, I was in my dorm. Sleeping. I open my eyes thinking, “I’m thirsty”, and Egg turns to me, dick out, and goes, “here you go, babe,” and shoves his dick in my mouth, which I, for reasons of unresolved horniness, abide to. In my dream, Egg had a lot more precum than he’s ever leaked in his entire life, so by the time he saw fit to stop making me gag, I’ve swallowed a fair amount and my entire chest is covered in cum drool. So then, I think, “I’m hungry,” and Rhae’s there, in a dominatrix latex clothing, and she goes, “you can eat Egg’s cum off my cunt, then, Aems,” which is unfair because my dream is just torturing me at this point, because you sit on a chair and you’re already dripping. So I eat it all off, but as I’m close to finishing cleaning you, Egg pulls me out, pushes me flat on the floor and starts bouncing on my cock like his life depended on it, then Rhae’s behind Egg with her strap on, and pulls Egg off me, and starts fucking us, like, fuck Egg a little, then fuck me a little, and then Egg manages to slip into me, and Egg’s fucking me along Rhae, and somehow none of us have come already. Then Rhae says, that whoever doesn’t come gets to eat her out again, and she sits on the chair with her legs on the arms, one of those glass dildos in her pussy, and says that the winner also gets to fuck the loser while eating her out because good boys need good food and toys, which was sexy as fuck. I get Egg on a nice 69, but instead of sucking him off I’m licking all the precum I left there in his ass because somehow it hasn’t all leaked out already, and  _ then _ I start sucking him, and Egg’s doing that thing where he’s with his mouth on the front and his fingers in your ass, but I think I’m winning, and then my alarm rings out and I’m hard and I want murder :)   
I’m good, but I would be better if I was home, curled up in our bed, where I could just groan and bother one of you until we fucked.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
That’s… one hell of a dream wow

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Ur alarm cheated u out of Rhae pussy wtf id be murdery too

**[M &Aems]**   
I want to go hoooommeeeeee :(   
I don’t care about snubbing the realm, I just want to go home and be with you two.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Awwwwwww   
Sadly we can’t snub the realm, but u’ll be home soon! Just four months left!

**[M &Aems]**   
Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh   
That’s sixteen weeks.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
20+fucks, an avg of 1.25 fucks a week, at a secondary average of 0,18 fucks a day. This is abt 1 fuck evr 6d. So ur actually due to quell ur missing of us w/i the next week   
Ur welcom

**[M &Aems]**   
Sometimes, I forget Egg’s only excellent grade was math, and then he comes with an average of how often and how long between fucks I can expect in under 5 minutes.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
<3 u

**[M &Aems]**   
…….. <3

* * *

Waiting for his father to arrive to pick him up had to be the most harrowing part of the end of the school year, and he was counting the second to being accepted in university so that he wouldn’t have to go through this slight humiliation each time.

Because  _ every time _ , the entire school would stop proceedings to watch and bow, and Aemon supposed he was already used to it by now, but there was  _ always _ the one freshman to scream about it.

“Father,” he greeted with a shallow bow.

“Aems,” his father responded in kind, because today he wasn’t the King of the Seven Kingdoms, he was just Aemon’s father, picking him up from boarding school, which he had admitted before was his favorite part of the school year too.

Aemon practically launched himself into his father’s arms. Aegon might think himself too cool, and Rhaenys too dignified to do it in public, but as the youngest sibling, Aemon had no such compunctions. He missed his siblings, yes, but he also missed his father and Elia and his mother, and as upset as he was that he would have to still go with his father on the progress, his father’s presence was comforting. Plus, Aemon felt he would always be the baby; even when he, Egg and Rhae had babies of their own, their parents would always see him as their little baby who didn’t give a rat’s ass about being thought of as cool, as long as he could get a hug.

(He could hear the snickerings of his classmates, more used to his affectionate outbursts, which he was fine with. He could also hear the less charitable snickers of people who thought they knew better how a prince ought to behave himself, and only barely restrained himself from flipping them off.  _ Barely. _ )

“I missed you, father,” he mumbled, happily, as Jaime’s underlings loaded his bags into the car.

“I missed you too, zaldrītsos. I’ll finally have someone to talk to, Robert is up at the Eyrie monopolizing Lord Arryn’s attention like a petty child.”

“Can’t you just order him away, you’re there on official business.”

“That’s where you come in, Aems.”

“Oh no,” he sat heavily onto the backseat, frowning and crossing his arms, looking out of the window like a petulant child, which only seemed to amuse his father. “I’ve heard enough of Cousin Robert and his thing for Uncle Ned.”

“Maybe you should start with that, stun Robert enough so that I can have a few hours of peace revising the Vale’s needs for the quarter.”

“He’s gonna immediately yell about being  _ a man _ , with  _ a man’s interests _ , not a little  _ girl _ , and he’s gonna say ‘girl’ like it’s the worst thing in all the world to be,” Aemon scoffed, “and  _ then _ you’ll get no second of peace because he will demand to have me fostered at Storm’s End to learn how to be a man, because Cousin Robert can’t appreciate the brothers he has, because Cousin Stannis once called him ‘dipshit’ and Cousin Renly laughed and repeated it.”

“Did Elia tell you that story?” his father asked, amused.

“No, mom did, a few years ago, when we were visiting Uncle Ned. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’m fairly sure if Steffon and Cassana were alive, they would’ve given Storm’s End to  _ Renly. _ ” His father ran his hand through his hair, looking more exhausted than he had before the door closed. “I swear, every time I have something important to do in the Eyrie, Robert finds a way to waylay my plans. Thank the gods I remembered to schedule  _ extra _ time this time around, I have all the time in the world to wait until Robert needs to go back to the Stormlands.”

“Maybe he’s afraid you’re stealing his father figure too,” Aemon guessed, and his father raised one eyebrow. “I mean, he still calls mom the love of his life, and he thinks you stole both her  _ and _ me from him. I’ve seen him drunk plenty in my life, father, Cousin Robert is a big baby dressed in sexist asshole couture.”

That got a laugh out of his father, if anything else didn't.

"I'm glad I have you for this progress, Aems."

* * *

  
  


The only highlight of Cousin Robert were his children, Aemon thought, as he sighted Mya at the Gates of the Moon's heliport. All of Robert's best qualities (admittedly outside ones like hair and eyes), with none of the bad ones (his entire personality, for one).

“Oh, there’s my favorite prince, how’s school?” she asked, smiling widely, and Aemon stomped on the urge to sigh.

“Over,” he replied, sounding probably like a whiny, spoiled brat who’s entirely too overdramatic.

“Ain’t that your brother’s job, to be whiny?” Mya quipped, as she waited for the Royal party to load the necessary things for the trip up the Giant’s Lance.

“Sometimes, he’s right, surprisingly.”

“Surprise of the fu-- flipping century, your grace.”

“All loaded,” his father’s kingsguard, Ser Arthur (and Aemon knew that if he forewent Ser Arthur’s title like he did Jaime the man would be extremely miffed), said, patting a blushing Jaime on the back.

“Let’s get this girl going, then, shall we, your graces?” Mya asked, bowing as members of the military are taught. She was always so damn  _ informal _ , though, and it always brought a smile to Aemon’s blotchily blushing face.

“Can I fly up front with Mya?” he asked his father, hopeful.

“Of course,” his father answered, because for some reason he always found it hard to say no to Aemon. His most recent memory of his father saying ‘no’ to him was when he was three, and he tried to run around the dining hall with a knife in his hand, if brief flashes reinforced by stories of him wanting to slay a dragon with his mighty sword could be counted as memory.

“Oh, ‘ello, my prince! Did his grace let you ride shotgun?” Mya asked over the deafening noise of the starting helicopter rotor.

“I asked,” he shouted back, picking up the headphones on the seat.

“You sure did, little guy!”

He should feel offended at being called ‘little’ by someone who was just  _ slightly _ taller than him, but by the Seven, whenever he was in the Vale and Mya called him ‘little guy’, it did things to him.

* * *

  
  


**[M &Aems]**   
I barely survived the ride up, and jury’s still out if I want to fuck Mya Stone or just have her step on me.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Both r valid af

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Both are valid af

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Jinx

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Jinx 

**[M &Aems]**   
Wow, same braincell!   
And yes, I know both are valid answers, but I feel like it’s just one.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
She called u lil guy again huh

**[M &Aems]**   
How would you even know it’s about that, for all you know she flexed in front of me.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Call it a lucky hunch   
She totes called u a lil guy agian   
*again   
Tiny boi   
Cravin her mcsnuggies   
Bc her arms strong and ur a twink boy

**[M &Aems]**   
I am  _ slender _ , not a twink.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Whatever you say, twink boy.

**[M &Aems]**   
I am altering this list as we speak, for my last two in the crownlands I’m making so that it’ll be Uncle Vissy and Dany, and I’m throwing you two on the couch. Sexiled from our bedroom. For a month.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Whoa there bud   
Isn’t that an overreaction   
Ur a twink but we still love u

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
U couldve said that ur hangup w twink is the implied machoness of the uh   
Hangon im lookin at the twitter thread again   
‘The implied machoness of the hyerarchy of gay archetypes’   
There we go

**[M &Aems]**   
It’s not??? I just don’t like being called a twink, because I’m not???

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Things that bother aems northern sensibilities: bein called a twink   
Things that dont: fuckin his siblings

**[M &Aems]**   
As if you’re sooooo muscly yourself, mister lululemon yoga pants for fashion.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
I was abt to call for a catfight and Aems went straight offline rip

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
_ But do he kno i lov him _

* * *

  
  


Aemon was used to not checking his twitter at all. He had two stealth twitters in which he could just tweet whatever he wanted to his heart’s content, and so, he left his PR team to run his official, proper prince twitter.

Today, however, was turning out to be not a normal day.

“You need to be more active there, Aems. Your mother is quite upset at having to comb your siblings’ phones for suitable pictures of you.”

Aemon’s jaw dropped, as horror set deep into his bones.

“Oh, gods, please tell me you’re joking, father…”

“I am.” His father smiled, lightly, before continuing. “Your Grandmother does it, actually.”

“Father!”

“Fine, fine, but it  _ is _ annoying that your team has to ask your siblings for pictures and only having them get back hours later.”

“I just… I don’t like the constrictions of having to be so formal.”

His father sighed, but Aemon knew he wasn’t upset. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation.

“You know your mother doesn’t care for it, you could tweet just like her,” his father pointed out.

“Well, I don’t see you tweeting all that much so there,” he retorted, sticking out his tongue.

“I am your father, young man,  _ you _ should be the one telling  _ me _ to tweet,” his father said, but not very sternly. “I understand that you want to interact with people in a way that won’t have them bending over backwards to agree with everything you say, but just sometimes, update your twitter yourself. We’ll be off after this… trying session with Lord Arryn to a monastery down the Giant’s Lance near Alyssa’s Tears. You could post on your own about that.”

“I’ll think about it and will have an answer before we leave,” he grumbled, not happy.

* * *

**[M &Aems]**   
Father wants me to tweet on my main more often.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
It might help w ppl thinking ur like   
An actual person with a sense of humor rather than a robot boy

**[M &Aems]**   
Beep bop?*   
*that means, you would love me more if I were human?

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Wow   
Dramatic   
Ofc wed love u the same aems   
Get ur metal ass back home soon <3

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Don’t incentive him.   
Just tweet like u would talk to ur classmates

**[M &Aems]**   
Lady Genna would murder me in cold blood if I did that. I abuse the fact my classmates don’t know how to react when I say anything to say outrageous hyperboles and make the wildest claims possible just to see their faces.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Oookay maybe tweet like u text us

**[M &Aems]**   
“Rhae’s legs am I right or  _ am I right. _ ”

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Twt like u text ur mom

**[M &Aems]**   
That might work. Wow. Egg’s probably right. What a day.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
I can b right   
A lot infact   
Like when i do [redacted] and u react [redacted]

**[M &Aems]**   
You don’t need to write ‘redacted’, you can straight up type what you meant; but I meant, you’re right in a socially acceptable way.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
I can b right lik that 2   
Lik when i hugged u to make u stop cryin in an official bznz + ev1 was lik ‘aw so adorbs’ n the press went like ‘adorable display of affection between princes bodes well for the future of the kingdom’   
I might not b right academically   
But i am right socially   
I mean   
I havnt caused Genna a single headache in 2 years.   
I even type like a human bein on occasion!

**[M &Aems]**   
Surprisingly. Though it’s hard to go wrong when all you do is visit schools and really impart the importance of paying attention in class.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Ok uve been rly prickly l8ly   
Wassup lil bro

**[M &Aems]**   
If I say I’m jealous of you, will you believe me?

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Wat   
Jealous of lil ol me???   
Tf did i do

**[M &Aems]**   
You exist in the general vicinity of Rhae.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Valid

* * *

He got a message from Lady Genna just before the helicopter landed on the monastery some good three hundred feet below, telling him to tweet about it himself at the very least,  _ or else _ . If his father and his siblings asking him to do it hadn’t done it, this surely would.

Lady Genna Lannister was Lord Lannister’s only sister, and while not as ruthless as the man, she sure could put the fear of the gods in one’s heart if she felt so inclined. She didn’t even need to speak up; all she needed to do was stare at you with one eyebrow raised and an expression that screamed ‘disappointment’ and you’d be running for the hills.

The Monastery of the First Landing, as it called itself, was not the oldest of the Vale’s monasteries (that one was reserved for the monks of the Skyreach Abbey at the Fingers), nor was it there since the first landing of Andals in Westeros. What it  _ was, _ was an impressive demonstration of Andal monastic architecture, being entirely carved off the mountain itself, the monastery’s patio forming a large grotto under Alyssa’s Tears, and the monastery itself being not built out of rock, but a sculpture on the mountain’s marble, with nary a seam or brick on sight. The only other example being the ruined hollowed out hills in Andalos, First Landing was a  _ very _ popular place for historians and tourists alike.

Aemon had… an idea of a picture he’s always wanted to take, but was wavering at doing so, because it probably relied on climbing one of the monastery’s statues and  _ that _ was blasphemy.

There was an Arryn eagle that usually made its nest on one of the statues. Eagles would usually nest where they will, and there’s nothing the falconers could do when one of them decided to nest outside of the bird house. This particular one happened to be Lady Lysa’s favorite bird, Swiftwing, and no one believed him when he said he knew where the eagle nested.

“Mya, I need your help,” he said, watching as the woman’s eyebrow rose up in question.

* * *

**HRH Prince Aemon Targaryen** _ @HRHAemon _   
The First Landing Monastery is really one of the most beautiful places in the Vale; Swiftwing, one of Lord Arryn’s royal eagles, truly chose a fine place to raise her kids under the Light of the Seven. (BTS picture of the logistics of not blaspheming too much.)

_ Thread: _ _   
_ [First image: picture of HRH Aemon with a royal Arryn eagle and two of her chicks, who had nested on top of a statue of the Father]   
[Second image: His grace sitting on the shoulders of RAF Commodore Mya Stone, to avoid climbing on the statue, holding his phone. Picture taken by His Majesty the King Rhaegar I]

* * *

  
  


**[Eggs Benedict]**   
I KNO I SAID TWT LIK U TXT LYA BUT AEMS   
THATS HILARIOUS

**[Rhaevioli]**   
T h e b t s p i c   
Dad is complicit in ur murder by genna now

**[M &Aems]**   
Lady Genna actually sent a message congratulating me in single-handedly changing my public image for the slightly better, actually. Now, she thinks, people will see me as actually having a sense of humor, and not being a “complete northern heathen”.   
Also she thinks the image descriptions were a nice touch on my part, because it makes it the Royal Family seem more accessible.   
I could do without the thirstposts, though.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
R u kidding me i haven’t had this much fun reading replies in a longass while   
Twt user florianfucker says ‘to be the clothes on mya stone and receive royal ass’   
Mood

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
What a wonderful day 2 hav ur stealths tl covered in screenshots of a deleted mispost of Rhaenys thirsting on the wrong account

**[M &Aems]**   
I JUST SWITCHED ACCOUNTS AND IT WAS THE FIRST THING I SAW, I’M DYING!!!   
Thank you, Rhae, I also think that’s a porn tape I’d love to watch.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Genna is going to end me   
I really SHOULD use bootleg apps, but im   
Idk which onessssssss   
Rip me   
Dont let dad undo the betrothal just bc i died   
Genna caught me slippin its on me

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Rhae bein murdered aside    
som1 said ‘prince aemon/mya stone, slow burn helicopter uniform porn, 200k words’    
n i want it

**[M &Aems]**   
They got the slow burn right.   
Tell the masses I’m t r y i n g.   
Though, I don’t think I can do it.   
I just. I’m noticing there’s a real dissonance between the people I find hot and an actual will to fuck them.   
I mean, what I really wanted was Mya to pick me up like a ragdoll, and what do you know, she actually can! Picked me up like a  _ toddler _ and then, after the picture just ran around going ‘wow you’re so small’ like I weighed nothing. I have no idea how I managed to keep the boner in, but I avoided that small humiliation at the very least.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Takin notes   
Time to hit the gym   
The sleeves arrived yesterday   
Imma become aems ultimate sex dream

**[M &Aems]**   
You are going to check if our sister didn’t straight up  _ die _ of shame in Lady Genna’s office.   
Also if you become my ultimate fantasy, I’ll just come up with another. It’s not worth it, and besides, you’re already perfect, Egg <3

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Im still gonna work out tho   
I found out i have a tummy n tht does NOT fit in w my himbo public image   
The m in himbo stands 4 MUSCLES   
Imma have those gains

**[M &Aems]**   
You go big bro.   
So proud of you.   
Found out your people, finally.   
How does that fit in with math college anyway?

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Imma drop out   
Become u 2s kept cock   
I was gonna b that nway :)   
Accelerate the process u kno

**[M &Aems]**   
Don’t let Elia hear you, she’ll eat your head out.

* * *

  
  


The realization that maybe his list was entirely based on less lewd intentions (he really just wanted Mya to hold him like a skittish cat, apparently), he sat back and sighed in his rooms at the Eyrie, kicking at his bags.

His bags…

He was fixing up his wig when his father walked into his rooms without knocking.

“From the looks of it, you intend to go out,” his father stated, nonplussed.

“Uh, yeah,” Aemon stuttered, hands frozen on both sides of the wig.

“Before you go, Aems, just remind me, what was the name of that website that tells you if any pets die in a movie? Elia and Lya are going to the movies, and Lya doesn’t want to watch pets dying, Marley and Me was enough to last her a lifetime.”

“It’s doesthedogdie,” he replied mechanically, uncomfortably closing six buttons from his shirt as fast as he could and pulling his skirt down to look less slutty.

“Thank you, sweetling. Your eyes could use a little more black eyeliner,” his father suggested, and Aemon could almost cry-laugh.

“You always say that, dad,” he retorted, nearly robotically putting a brush to the wig’s hair.

“I’ll warn Lord Royce that he’s supposed to expect a lady guest in the early hours, then. Do take Jaime, and try not to stay out until sunrise.”

Aemon felt like death, and wondered if going through the Moon Door would actually kill him before he hit the jagged stones of the mountain face.

He poked his head out of his room and sure enough, Jaime was still awake. Good. he motioned for his bodyguard to get closer.

“Pick two of your best at incognito stuff, I’m going out,” he told him.

“And here I thought I might get a full night’s sleep, for once,” he bemoaned, but pulled out his work phone, before ruffling her hair and walking out to get a detachment ready.

It took him nearly one hour to go down the Giant’s Lance to the city that surrounded the Gates of the Moon and the Eyrie, Eagle’s Rest, because of the slow pace and frequent pauses they needed to make due to compression and the sheer incline of the road. It  _ had _ been carved out from an old pathway, nearly tunnelling the old goat’s path right into the mountain to make a two-lane road. The tunnelling process nearly shook many things, including the castle, right off the mountain, and so, to make up for the loss of rock integrity, they made iron pillars. It  _ should _ be entirely ugly, but if there was  _ one _ thing you could say of westerlanders, was that they could  _ work _ metal, so at least he had some pretty things to look at.

“We’re nearly there, your grace,” Jaime chimed in.

“You  _ could’ve _ stayed behind to sleep, you know?” she kicked Jaime’s seat. “You are  _ very _ recognizable.”

“I am also not wearing my uniform, I can reasonably claim to be off-duty a little, as a treat.”

“Oh, my gods, don’t quote memes again, Jaime, please.”

“I have it on good authority of my niece that this is indeed the correct usage, your grace, I do not see the cause for such alarm.”

“Myrcella isn’t still upset at being passed for one of Rhae’s companions, right?”

“Oh no,” Jaime said, happily. “She’s very over it. Apparently having one of her artwork merchandise belong to Princess Rhaenys is enough for her.”

“What?” she asked, confusedly. She’d think they’d remember having ordered anything from Casterly Rock.

“She goes by Myrcella Hill on her SNS stealths. Just like you go by Jon Snow and Aemma Waters on yours. She screamed at me via messages to tell her who else had those shorts for quite a few weeks after that picture, during Flower Stockings Month.”

“And did you?”

“I am sworn to protect your secrets, my princess,” Jaime said, nonchalantly. “That being said, I did point out the order was three shorts, and Princess Rhaenys is only one person.”

“Wow, selling us out for one corn chip and a hug from your niece,” she whined, kicking his seat again like a petulant toddler.

Jaime swerved lightly, which served only to alarm everyone in the car, and knock Aemma around, dislodging her wig a little.

Her first stop in the city was actually at the castle at the base of the mountain, to wait for Mya’s helicopter to touch down. Aemma had about five minutes of clear thought in her embarrassment, in which she remembered to close up her buttons and pull down her skirt again to look more proper, before Mya, laughing something awful, handed her her technically not-fake IDs.

(There was not a single false information in the card, except the surname. Plus, weren’t royalty allowed fake names for their own protection? She was a  _ princess _ , and therefore, this was her fake, protectional ID. That she only ever used it to go clubbing, no one needed to know.)

“If I may be so bold, your grace, you look adorable,” Mya hollered, as her father straightened a hairpin on her wig.

“Don’t forget these again, please,” her father asked, loudly over the helicopter’s rotor noise.

“I’ll try not to,” she replied, just as loudly.

“Have fun, and remember,  _ before dawn.” _

“I know that!”

* * *

  
  


Jaime didn’t actually go in with her, choosing to take a nap in the car. The bouncer was the worst part, making an entire show of checking if Aemma’s ID was actually legit (it was  _ government issue _ , thank you very much), but eventually she managed to get into the overcrowded club.

And almost immediately regretted.

Aemma’s been on shitty clubs before, and she’s not above frequenting those… in the  _ North _ , where at least the company is good, the music isn’t overpowering, except on rock bars like Tormund’s, and only very rarely, on larger cities like Winterfell or White Harbor, has she ever experienced the sheer disappointment of going up to the hostess to ask for a VIP booth to run from the overcrowded bar, only to have the woman look at her condescendingly, and outright reject her  _ diamond _ card, because of some bullshit reason like reserving the VIP booths to actual VIPs, and Aemma nearly tore her wig out in frustration.

“Maybe I should have, and pulled the other ID,” she grumbled, glaring someone out of their bar seat and aiming to at the very least get warmed up before checking the hell out to better, shittier venues. “Give me the shittiest, most alcoholic mixer you can possibly concoct,” she told the bartender, slapping her phone and card onto the counter for effect.

“I’ll need ID,” the bartender said, only strong enough to go over the music and not a note more.

“You see many underage children with black diamond cards around here, you should talk to your manager to fire your damn bouncer!”, is what she wanted to say. In truth, she just handed the bartender her ID, who seemed relieved that at least  _ one _ of the irritated people in her area wasn’t throwing a tantrum. She could see from the corner of her eye that Harrold Hardyng was in the middle of pulling rank onto a minimum wage worker of all things, and instantly felt like a better person for just glowering at the woman as she handed her back her ID.

“I just want you to know, I’m not mad because of you,” she yelled at the bartender.

“You’d be the first today, my lady,” was the reply.

It seemed the bartender truly took her revenge on Aemma’s drink, because it was nearly undrinkable, seemingly having mixed a dose of every drink available for mixing, and was half raspberry syrup.

“Fuckin’ cheers,” she raised her goblet of complete oblivion at the bartender, before tapping her card at the reader, then realizing the bartender meant for her to tap  _ her phone _ at it.

“Fucking crowded place, I swear if I hadn’t lost my friends already I would be here to ditch them,” someone groused, inserting themselves in the space between Aemma and the other seat. “Hey, bar girl, get me the strongest shit you have, I’m talking a mind eraser!”

Aemma liked this guy already.

“Make him one of what I’m having!” she yelled, smiling, feeling the buzz of the unholy concoction hitting her already.

“If you’re smiling in this shit ass day, in this shitty club, that must be fucking poisonous,” the man looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.

“In my defense, they should put this one on the menu, I haven’t even noticed how hard it punched and I had like, a sip.”

“Got ditched by your friends who are probably fucking in the bathroom, too?” he asked, nodding at the bartender, then frowning as Aemma beat him to tapping the card reader.

“My… friends would know better than to leave me out of that,” she smiled, sipping from her own cup of alcohol poisoning waiting to happen. “As it is, I came alone. Some classmates said this club was good, and so far I’m considering the wisdom of having ever trusted them with even a pencil.”

“Fucking mood, came here because my friends said, nooo, Edd, we’re not ditching you to fuck in the bathroom, or-- oh, there they are, being escolted out with their pants down.”

“Cheers, mate,” she raised her cup at the couple, the girl trying to pull her skirts up and the guy limping in what seemed to be a case of dick on zipper. She noticed Edd do the same, and the two get betrayed looks on their faces that their friend was not moving a damn muscle to remove himself from where he was leaning on the bar counter, obviously chatting up a pretty girl.

“Dude’s my rich cousin, thinks he can pull rank whenever, and forgets outside Grey Glen, he’s got like, no clout.”

“Gods, I hate everything about this club,” Aemma complained, sipping her drink. “Except you,” she turned, and leaned over the counter, squinting, to read the girl’s nametag, “Myriah. I don’t hate you. Probably has something to do with you making this sin potion.”

“Much obliged, my lady,” the woman replied, wiping the counter, having finally caught a break long enough to notice the two clients on her zone getting absolutely smashed on the  _ one _ drink she made.

“Myriah, dear, can we take these cups with us?” She asked, leaning her entire body over the counter, and probably flashing some people behind her.

“They’re included in the price, my lady.”

“Thanks, love. You, Tollett guy, wanna ditch this joint? I want to find a worst, better place to finish what Myriah here started.”

“Amazing that I told you my name, but you figured out my  _ surname _ ,” the man drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone, “from an off-hand comment.”

“It’s what really impresses the girls,” she purred, leaning into him, and Aemma’s smile widened at seeing the other embarrassed. “So, wanna go somewhere else, or are you cool downing this and waiting until it hits before going?”

“I know a better place,” he nearly stuttered, chugging his drink, and Aemma laughed before doing the same.

She eyed the man, putting her glass on the counter. He wasn’t horrible to look at; the dyejob made him look older than he was, but he wasn’t bad looking. Though, Aemma  _ did _ have exceptional high standards on that matter, and maybe the guy  _ was _ good looking by the standards of a normal person. His frown did look adorable from an angle.

“It better look like the kind of shithole where shitty punk bands go to die,” she told him, cheerfully.

“Some vocalist of a shitty punk band died screaming his shitty songs there, once,” he informed her.

“Lead the fucking way, good ser.” She took his arm, all pressed up against his side. She only remembered she forgot tucking entirely when the man raised an eyebrow at her.

_ Shit _ .

“Well, I cannot say that’s the most unpleasant surprise of the night, those spots firmly belong to my cousin and his girlfriend,” Edd said, and Aemma laughed a relieved, nearly hysterical laugh.

“That’s good to hear, I thought I might have to find the bar by myself.”

“I hope there isn’t any death there today, though there  _ is _ a terrible pattern going on there.”

“You’re awfully pessimistic, can you try looking at the bright side?” she asked, no bite at all, just curious.

“Well, I’m  _ fairly _ sure no one’s going to die too hard today there,” he replied, and Aemma snorted before cracking and laughing way harder than the weak joke deserved, but then, they were a little drunk.

Edd Tollett was hilariously pessimistic, especially when drunk. On the five minute walk down the road and into an alleyway, he managed to shock her into hysteric laughter three times, the latest at complaining how they would both be the bar deaths this time, because Jaime’s men got  _ far _ too close when they veered into the alley.

“Don’t worry, if the worst comes to pass, only one of us will be dead,” she informed him, cheerfully, which had him raising his eyebrows, and smirking a little.

“Oh, nice, the sweet release of death.”

“Gods, you’d get along with my dad in his teen years  _ swimmingly _ .”

“What a great relationship with your parents you have that you’re flirting with a guy and mentioning them in the middle, can’t be me, my parents would sell me for one corn chip,” he drawled.

“My septa would say it’s the daddy complex that led me to crossdress,” she said, all seriously, and Edd did a double take.

“Just realized, I never asked your name. You could be leading me to my death and if I survive, I won’t even have a name to give.”

“It’s Aemma. Aemma Waters,” she replied, effortlessly.

“Edd Tollett, but you already knew that,” he said, awkwardly.

“Well, then, Edd, how about you lead the way in? The music is already better than that club.”

If Aemma said she remembered how she ended up pressing Edd against a wall, kissing him, to the drum of a really, really bad garage punk band she didn’t even know the name of, she’d be lying. Most of the things in the mind wiper drink she’d had were starting to hit, and well. Her brain had been fuzzy at the beginning; with the added drinks Edd bought her, because she forgot to bring paper money, she was downright too drunk to think straight.

“We can go to my apartment, if you’re feeling like making me an optimist,” he offered, and Aemma had just about enough brains left to realize she should be telling someone of her whereabouts.

“If you tell me the address, I’ll think about it.”

He did, pulling her out of the bar with him, and she forgot why she wanted his address in the first place.

* * *

Aemon woke up with a massive headache, in a bed he didn’t recognize for the life of him, and rolled over, to hide his face from the sunbeam right in his eyes.

“Wait,” he muttered, and got up, panicked, picking up his phone and seeing it’s got 3% battery, and realizing he had ten missed phone calls, fifteen messages and was in  _ so much trouble. _ “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, zooming around the small bedroom to find all his clothing.

“People usually tell others it was a mistake  _ after _ they left and it’s been some time,” a sleepy voice came from the bed and Aemon wanted to laugh so bad, but the panic at the lecture his father would give him overrode any other will.

“I don’t think I remember enough to tell if it was one or not,” he answered, truthfully, “but I  _ do _ know that I’m in so much trouble, I was supposed to be back before sunrise.”

“Ah,” Edd said, yawning, “that might be a problem. You might like your wig back, though.”

“Oh!” Aemon patted his head and indeed, there was only his own hair and hairpins there.

“Gods, no one but that one nutter on twitter will believe me,” Edd groused, completely dejected.

“What nutter,” he asked, buttoning his shirt up to his neck.

“Don’t know his name, goes by royaltrufax. The only guy who will believe Prince Aemon crossdresses, and he’s absolutely insane.”

Despite his awful current circumstances, Aemon laughed.

“You’re not being very proper, over there,” he pointed out.

“Well, I’d wager since we very clearly fucked, in this specific situation I’ve earned the privilege of dropping the titles a little, as a treat.”

“Oh my gods, what’s with everyone and this treats meme, it’s not even funny,” he said, but he was laughing.

“It’s the dog brain,” Edd replied, sagely. “Deep down, we’re all dogs, chasing after tail and treats.”

“Also, the guy you said, the one on twitter? That’s Aegon. It’s one of his fakes, he made that one age fifteen to post things that sound absurd about us. Dad’s furious, but my moms think it’s hilarious.” He pulled up his skirt, cursing at the thing’s refusal to dress him as well as yesterday, and looked at his phone. One percent battery, eleven missed calls, thirty messages.  _ Fuck. _

“You should charge that,” Edd said, tossing him a charger. Aemon looked at it, confused, before Edd sighed. “You’ve never used a corded charger before? Gods protect us.” The other got up, still very naked, and, after a quick turning of the phone to guarantee it  _ wasn’t _ one of those that _ only _ charged via wireless, he plugged Aemon’s phone for him. 2%. “It’s a fast charger, cost me like, a stag. You should invest for your sneak-out bag, so you can pick up your calls and not have the Royal Secret Service breaking into poor people’s apartments.”

“Oh? Are you presuming to tell me what to do?” Aemon questioned, smiling, leaning into the other guy.

“You seemed to like that a lot yesterday,” he answered, blushing, and Aemon laughed, as he unlocked his phone to look at his messages.

It was a mess. His father had actually cursed at him, which in the scale of 1-10 in how bad he fucked up, equated to a 20. There were messages from Elia and  _ his mother _ , and he dreaded to look at the missed calls. Aemon fired messages quickly, first to his father, to apologize, to his mothers to assure them he was fine, and then to Jaime, with the address he was at, only to find out that Jaime was already there, waiting.

“Ah, shit, I need to bolt, like, right now, or I might find myself locked up in a tower,  _ again _ ,” he complained, and Edd looked at him odd.

“Again, you say?”

“Egg and Rhae locked me up the Windwyrm tower, and refused to let me go unless someone defeated the mighty dragons in battle. Of course, being who they were, no one around but dad and our moms were high enough the food chain to actually go about defeating them, so I ended up locked up for the better part of a day.” Aemon shrugged, typing with one hand as he finished getting dressed with the other.

“That’s absolutely the kind of shit one would expect from children living in a castle shaped like dragons,” Edd said, snorting, “Though I’m surprised none of you tried to throw dragon eggs into the volcano.”

“Oh, we did, Father just didn’t appreciate the capital E Egg we tried to throw. Apparently there’s a tradition of throwing obsidian egg sculptures into the volcano, too, but we don’t get to try until we’re married.” Aemon sighs. “A shame, really. Aunt Dany says she’ll throw the real dragon egg she found in the mountain.”

“I feel like I’m going to be shot and killed after this,” Edd complained. “Straight up, you’re telling me all this shit, and then someone from the Secret Service with a license to kill is going to make me vanish so I can’t be spreading lies about the Royal Family.”

“Oh, don’t worry, no one’s going to kill you,” he informed Edd cheerfully. “No one’s going to believe you, either.”

“No one but your brother. Wonderful.”

Aemon picked up his panties, somehow the last thing he found, and flinged it at Edd’s head.

“Rhae too, though the world at large thinks we’re wildly goofy twelve-year old roleplayers.”

The other paused what he was doing, which was removing Aemon’s panties from his hair, and stared at him wide eyed, then shook his head, eyes closed as if his brains were about to redecorate his flat.

“Father did warn me that getting entangled with nobles in any capacity was asking for a headache, why couldn’t I believe him before getting a headache of my own is beyond me.”

* * *

  
  


**[M &Aems]**   
His name is Edd Tollett, and if you ask me, “was it worth the lecture”, I don’t remember the night, there’s a club in Eagle’s Rest with a bartender who’s just waiting to exact revenge on the clients by making the Strongest Mixer in the World, but he’s entirely too funny in his own dry, pessimistic kinda way, so, I guess?

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
How much did u hear from dad   
Like quantify it

**[M &Aems]**   
He’s disappointed in me and I better not do this ever again if I hope to go anywhere without a close escort until the day he dies.   
His exact words, so I’m guessing he will involve a last-day edict in it if I ever drink so much I forget the time again.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Ok, but how much of that bartender’s windex potion did u drink anyway, Aems?

**[M &Aems]**   
One literal solo cup-sized cup.   
That’s half of what it took, to be honest. And then we got out of that club, after his cousin and his cousin’s girlfriend were dragged out half naked for public indecency because they were having sex out in the club, and went to a shitty pub playing shitty live punk, had like two shots, I guess? And from then on it’s blurry. I think I asked him his address yesterday, but forgot to send it to Jaime, who informed me gleefully he had to use ‘findyourkid-dot-com’ to find me by my stealth’s twitter handle.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
What a night

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Aems im beggin u to let us finish this tour with u instead of father

**[M &Aems]**   
I didn’t ‘let’ father finish this tour with me, he’s doing the tour, invited me along, and left you two to hold the fort.   
Something tells me Egg forgot though.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
He always forgets sth its amazing actually

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Sssshut upppppp

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Make me

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Ill fuck ur titties dont think i wont

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Oh wow what a threat im shaking in my boots

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
U shld   
im abt to let aems kno u hired two bridal wear designers    
to dress u for formal events n we got like   
6 balls in 1 week in 5 diff places   
Hell tell dad n ur fucked

**[M &Aems]**   
Rhaenys Targaryen, if I have to wait SIX MONTHS to see you two again, you can wait six months to wear fucking  _ bridal dresses _ .

**[Rhaevioli]**   
_ Im the crown princess i do what i want _

* * *

  
  


Thanks to his late arrival into the Eyrie, the stewards of the Gates of the Moon were awake, and so he wasn’t receptioned only by his father’s men, but also by Lord Royce’s daughter, the acting steward in his stead, Lady Myranda.

He was painfully aware of the way his heels echoed off the keep’s walls, breathing in and out slowly, to keep himself from bolting the other way.

“Welcome to the Gates of the Moon, your grace,” Lady Myranda said, graciously. “Thought I recognized you in that… class function the other week!”

If Myranda was loud and gossipy, she was also, somehow, the soul of discretion, as her pause wasn’t long enough to be suspicious to anyone but him, everyone else shaking their heads as if Myranda nearly said they had a end-of-the-year party in the dorms.

“Thank you, Lady Myranda,” he replied, properly, trying not to let his mortification of being known bleed through his voice. He wasn’t ashamed of himself, but also, being outed indirectly by a bartender with a vengeance was about the bottom of the lowest.

“If you’d like, your grace, I shall escort you to your quarters,” she said, a little too quickly, and, Aemon couldn’t help but notice, a little nervousness.

“What’s happening, my lady?” he asked, following her. He knew from school that Myranda wasn’t the type to make fuss for nothing. Also, he tried very hard to not notice how she was probably wearing a proper, underwire bra instead of the usual sports bra she wore in school to stop the boys from staring. It would be rude when normally she went to lengths and pains to stop people from doing just that. She wasn’t like Rhaenys and Aemon would  _ respect it _ , damn it.

“I just figure your grace wouldn’t appreciate if Lord Baratheon were to see you like this. I don’t believe you’re ashamed of it,” she amended, looking at him, “but every soul saved from Robert Baratheon’s spittle is a soul kept pure.”

“You have no idea how right you are, Lady Myranda.”

“I’m Lady Royce now, Father has officially ceded the title,” she tittered gleefully. “I know it’s none of my business,” Myranda started.

“Nothing good comes after that, usually,” he muttered.

“It’s nothing bad. I was wondering if where you bought that shirt it came in big sizes. It’s a lovely one.”

It was a lovely shirt, with its sleeves detailed in white embroidery and he supposed with its buttons closed it painted a pretty, pious picture, but his throat itched to having something less constricting on, or at least being less self-conscious and unbuttoning a few of the top buttons.

“I don’t think so, my lady. This is old, and from,” his tone soured, “Mockingbird.”

“Ah, I take it this is pre-scandal, then,” she said, wisely. “Why did you keep it?”

“Honestly? Since my family moved to dissociate completely from Baelish and his companies, I kept a few because certainly a member of the Royal Family wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a brand they disavowed, right? Makes for a damn good smokescreen, I’ll give it that.”

“Still, that was an awfully bleak affair, wasn’t it? Worming his way into being one of your textile suppliers, only to turn out he’s been using his seamstresses to sell out any state secret they might’ve overheard…” Myranda sighed, and Aemon pointedly looked the other way. “Still, it was pretty cool of His Majesty, in the trials.” She puffed up and straightened her face. “‘Traitors do not deserve last wishes,’ right? Very regal,” she said, and Aemon got the impression ‘regal’ was the most polite word she could use, judging by her blushing.

“You know, Lord Baratheon is a very loud drunk, and he likes to joke that if it weren’t for the Faith, my father would’ve been looking for a bride in every kingdom,” he said, offhandedly, and Lady Myranda’s blush deepened something awful. “Oh gods, Randa.”

“I’m sorry, Aems,” she whispered. They were both whispering now, so that the staff wouldn’t catch wind of them being so informal. “Some of the girls were talking about your brother, and it devolved into one of the girls saying that she had pictures from the King’s teenage years, and they were talking about how Aegon and King Rhaegar look alike, and… you know.”

_ “I wish I didn’t,” _ he hissed back, dead inside. The last thing he really wanted in his life was think about people thinking of his  _ father _ the way he thought of his siblings.

Myranda was going to say something, when her phone pinged, and she went to look at it, and a few seconds later, Aemon’s phone pinged as well. Dread mounting, he took a deep breath, and said a distracted goodbye at his door, trying not to think about his father having chosen his clothes for him, if the terrible, but same tone all-black ensemble was something to go by.

* * *

  
  


**[Rhaevioli]**   
I WILL END UNCLE VISSY

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Get in line sis   
Im closer

**[M &Aems]**   
Oh gods, what did he do?

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Oh, it sounds like father got there first, even if via phone   
Anyway uncle vissy decided we were having too much fun over here being heir and consorts to the throne   
So he decided to leak one of those old home videos

**[M &Aems]**   
Oh gods.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Now, its one thing if we decided that we wanted to leak a video of me slipping on grass, then egg trying to help me and slipping too, then you coming to help and slipping too and jon had to go there help  _ you _ up so  _ you _ could help  _ egg _ so  _ egg _ could help  _ me _ .   
It’s another thing entirely for uncle vissy to leak it like   
His caption was “they can’t even help each other up properly, would you trust them to run the country?”   
Thankfully, everyone’s answers has been “yes” and “i’d trust them with my life”   
Like I sound mad, but I really just want to know what’s going on in uncle vissy’s head.

**[M &Aems]**   
_ You made it sound like he had just leaked the home videos that cannot be leaked, ever _ , Rhae. An old video of us being dumbasses together is like. That’s tame.

**[Rhaevioli]**   
IDK aems im on e d g e   
I love jon but he’s   
Im gonna end up biting off his ENTIRE FACE if he doesn’t godsdamn let up a little.   
How do i politely tell him to take out the buttplug and just ask myles toyne out. Like just. Just do it. Just be biker bfs together. How hard is it.

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
On a scale of 1-10 how hard is it jon   
Hed answer 20   
I can FEEL it

**[M &Aems]**   
Yall…………….

**[Rhaevioli]**   
Oh gods what happened

**[M &Aems]**   
Sansa sent me an honest-to-god text right now.   
Screenshot_182374.png   


**[Rhaevioli]**   
_ Since when do you apologize _ aemon what the FUCK KDSJFDJKGFJKH

**[Eggs Benedict]**   
Im more worried abt the 2% bruh r u ok

**[M &Aems]**   
Don’t worry about my battery levels.   
Screenshot_38583.png   


**[Rhaevioli]**   
_ You’re trying _ that’s a nice joke aems did you explain to her ur tryin to get into lady myranda’s girdles yet

**[M &Aems]**   
Oh, that’s a nice thought.

* * *

  
  


Later that evening, his father announced they were leaving early for the Riverlands, his business with Lord Arryn having concluded much earlier than expected.

“Do I even want to know, father?” Aemon asked, as his father handed him a bag full of all the black makeup items he owned, and obediently put it into his Aemma bag, as Jaime directed a maid away from it.

“Suffice to say Robert won’t be as jolly today as he was this afternoon about drinking with his royal cousin,” his father answered, waving his hand.

“Oh, what does he look like right now?” Aemon put his boots on, finding it still far too early to have an angry cousin Robert looking like a punk drag queen barging into his guest room demanding to speak with his father. He sighed at the thought and doubled his speed getting dressed. Maybe he could sleep on their way to Riverrun.

“Oh, nothing too exaggerated,” his father said, too innocently. Aemon knew better than to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next time in Slutty Aems' Westeros Sex Tour (this fic's actual title in my head): Rhaenys in bridal dresses taking slutty selfies to show her brothers, Aemon learns of what happens to every person he's banged so far, Theon Greyjoy is an asshole but he has a nice mast over there, and is also a terrible, no good influence, Aemon thinks as he watches Theon watching him as he dials a number right off the sex services page of the newspaper.
> 
> it's on hiatus, that doesn't mean i got no plan lol
> 
> see yall and thank you for ur patience!

**Author's Note:**

> the list is not set in stone yall. some of that might not come to pass, as i remember names and study family trees in the wikia. the only things u can be certain of is jon/desmera, jon/alynne connington (bc it's funny) and jon/satin will DEFINITELY happen.
> 
> see yall when i manage to weave the vale prep school shenanigans i guess askjdsjfdjg

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Three Heads Has the Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521184) by [Dewy_Pink_Morning_Roses52](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dewy_Pink_Morning_Roses52/pseuds/Dewy_Pink_Morning_Roses52)




End file.
